Once Upon A Time
by Madame Lazla
Summary: Every happy ending is another story's beginning. Post/Transformation AdamxGaston SLASH
1. Once Upon A Time: Belle Left

Title: Once Upon A Time

Author: Madame Lazla

Rating: PG-13 - M

Warnings: Positively dripping in SLASH (yaoi; mann gegan mann; homo-love – whatever you like to call it); bondage; blood play and accidental traces of OOC. DON'T LIKE DON'T READ! O.O

Fandom: Beauty and the Best

Pairing: Prince Adam/Gaston, Prince/Belle (Only for, like, two minutes)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, creatures or scene settings in the story. That is all Disney. I only own the pervertedness.

Summary: The most interesting stories begin with "Happily Ever After". Post-Transformation.

Once Upon a Time…Belle Left

Prince Adam was having trouble finding his princess amongst the crowd of well-wishers in the reception hall. The painfully shiny chandeliers lit up every face, skirt and boot of foreign merchants, dignitaries and royals; but no hair was tan enough, no lips pink enough and no eyes as enchanting as that of his new bride.

_Where could she possibly be?_ His internal conundrum hidden behind a dazzling smile that left many a woman speechless. Some men too. As he swirled and slid through servants and guests alike, something caught his peripheral vision.

Standing within the foot-high mirror was a living statue of a man. Tall and muscular, he almost seemed to burst through the white and gold tuxedo that set off his honey-coloured ponytail and fair complexion rather nicely. But looks were deceiving: generously full lips hid sharp canines and there was something about his azure eyes and the pale bruises beneath them that spoke of a dark history. Signs that he was never quite human, and would never be again.

Expressive eyebrows wrinkled. As soon as they were done here, he'd ask Lumière to cover this mirror up too. He hated the things. But first order was to find his love.

She wasn't in the gardens, though he found a few lovers there. He couldn't find her in the atrium, nor in her bedroom (though he hadn't actually gone in out of courtesy). He had nearly convinced himself to personally inspect the drainpipes when the thought hit him. How stupid of him! How hadn't he gone there first?!

True to form, he found her in the library. She sat on the window ledge, her white gown sliding over her exposed knees and pooling on the floor below. A strand of hair fell free from her elaborate bun and swung in the air in front of her face. In proper fashion, she was reading a book: a faded blue cover. The only thing she loved more than him was that book that she had read thousands of times, but never seemed to be bored with.

Normally, as she read, she would have an expression of pure content, but now, as her fingers darted along the pages, she was frowning. An equally beautiful vision, but seeing her in such grief made the prince's heart ache.

"Belle," he said plainly, stepping into her line of vision. She looked up, startled, before gracing him with a smile.

"Adam," the name sounded stilted – and almost unwelcome – from her mouth. It wasn't her fault, for just a day ago he had been known to her as Beast; more animal than man. It was the Beast that she came to love and was doubtless still trying to find her old sweetheart in this new body. Filled with a deep tenderness, Adam rushed to her as she rushed to him and the pair pulled each other into an embrace. Adam used his hands to feel her waist with human flesh; Belle using hers to feel his new hair and hairless back. It was a brief reconnection of bodies, a re-acquaintance of their hearts and minds. Adam placed a soft kiss into her hair. It smelt like strawberries.

He felt her tremor against him and realised, sadly, that she was shaking as she desperately clung to him. He hurt more when he heard her stifle a sob.

"Belle? _Mon amour*_, what's wrong?"

She shook her head against his chest, refusing to look into his eyes, "I love you, Beast. I love you!"

Something about her tone made the prince's heart sink. He no longer used the name Beast anymore – he was trying to rebuild his life as a human, trying to erase those ten years of painful solitude. Belle knew this, supported his rehabilitation, so the fact she had reverted to his old name…

"…But this isn't what you want, is it," he said it softly so it did not sound like he was accusing her. And how could he blame her? She was young, lively and adventurous – it was not her time to settle down. She hadn't spent lonely years, pining for commitment and family like he had. It occurred to him for the first time since he'd change that he was too caught up in their young romance that he had forced her into marriage; that the only reason she said "I do" was because she didn't want to break his heart.

She seemed to cry harder at his tone, "I – I tried, Beast, I tried! I love you, I love you so much…but I – I can't do this I –"

"Shh," Adam rubbed small circles into her back to calm her down. There was a dull pain in his chest, but what mattered most to him was her suffering. He had to make a choice now: have the love of his life, forced into a life of marital servitude, or…

"Belle, listen to me," he held her tighter, committing her feel, her _smell_, to memory, "I want you to go upstairs and grab a cloak."

"A-Adam?"

"Take whatever you need. Cogsworth will have a horse ready for you, but you need to leave quickly –"

"Are you…?"

"– before I change my mind," Prince Adam used his thumb and forefinger to gently lift her face, she lowered her eyes as he brushed away the tears. He needed to see her eyes, so he'd remember them when he'd undoubtedly regret this decision.

"Belle, please, look at me. I beg you."

Green moss gazed into blue skies with a sad freedom in them. It was almost as if they were reliving their first separation but the former Beast knew that this time, she would not come back for him. Her bottom lip trembled as fresh tears spilled down her heart-shaped face. She placed a soft kiss on the corner of her lover's mouth.

"_Je t'aimerais toujours_."**

Adam fought the urge to run madly after her, drag her back by her long veil. He bit his bottom lip as a single tear slid over his cheeks to rest on his pronounced chin.

"Belle…"

She turned abruptly, her skirts swishing at her movement. She looked panicked, almost as if she expected him to go back on his word. He threw her a pathetically tragic smile.

"No matter where you go, you'll always have a place here. With me."

She mirrored his smile, both aware that it would never be the same, even if she did return. With no other words to share, Adam helplessly watched Belle pick up her skirts and practically fly from the library. His eyes lingered on the spot she had been, long after she was no longer there. He could still hear the orchestra playing for the loud wedding guests, but he felt too weak, too strained to see them now. The past few minutes would be too fresh and raw on his face, laid out for all.

His head mechanically turned to the window where she had been sitting. On the pane, looking rather lonely too was _her_ faded book. Nothing in all his years had looked so priceless.

He kept himself together long enough to touch it. The moment his fingers brushed against the bound leather, he collapsed into a heap of broken sobs.

He loved her. Too much to keep her to himself. Too much to allow himself happiness.

*_Mon amour _= my love

**_Je t'aimerais toujours_ = I will love you forever/ I will always love you


	2. Once Upon A Time: A Stranger Was Saved

"Master, I am telling you, you _must_ go after her!" Lumière's thin and buckled legs were no match for his master's strong and booted calves as he followed the young man deeper into the forest. Adam, though irritated, had to admire Lumière's persistence – especially since he was going out of his way to walk the most difficult paths as fast as he could. It was at times like these when he wished he was still a monster and his servant was still a candlestick so he could roar Lumière into a stunned silence, and bound away. Four legs were much faster than two – especially since Lumière would have to slowly hop along.

Sighing, he sharply turned left, throwing himself over a particularly large rock, slipping under some leafy branches and vaulting over some undergrowth. He turned his head in time to hear his comrade's exasperated sigh. Despite himself, Adam felt guilty. All Lumière was doing was trying to stop his master from making the biggest mistake in his life and all he had done to show appreciation was skip meals, refuse baths and run off into the woods at every possible moment. If it were not for the dear Mrs Potts who (upset with the situation and fearing his sanity) had assigned a daily servant to ensure watch over him – he would have been rotting away in the West Wing.

"_Je suis tellement desolé, vraiment_, but I just need a moment alone," he smiled sadly at Lumière, who did not seem to know what to say. "Go home – I'm sure Babette will be _thrilled_ to see you."

His comrade gave a small start at the suggestion before miserably hiding a goofy grin. His expression turned serious again, "Are you sure, Master? If I leave you here you must promise not to get yourself in any trouble!"

"Yes Father," Adam allowed his smile to be a semi-tone happier, "You would think I'm the servant!"

Lumière still frowned (a comical expression on his long, animated face), waving a bony finger through the branches, "Promise or I am not leaving!"

The prince rolled his eyes. "I promise, I promise! Will you _please_ stop worrying about me?"

Lumière withdrew his finger, a hesitant smile on his face, "Please meet me at the castle in an hour, or else that overgrown teapot will have my buns for dinner!"

Adam chuckled as he watched Lumière awkwardly make his way back to the castle, tripping and slipping as his stick legs wobbled over the leafy path. _The poor man was more graceful as a candlestick_, the young man thought as he continued walking off the path. Good old Lumière knew him better than anyone and would always respect his wishes – whether they were for the prince's good or not. He understood Adam's desire for solitude, even if he thought the misery was self-inflicted and unnecessary.

The sound of rushing water met the spurned prince's ears and he was somewhat soothed by the river that appeared in front of him. He looked into the far distance in the direction he came from and spotted the bridge that lead to his home, the water crashing against it and through it. He seemed far enough to allow himself a few minutes of howling, sobbing and grass pulling before he reached into his loose white shirt and pulled out a faded blue novel. It was quite small in his large hands, but the spine fit perfectly down his palm. He flipped through the pages until he found where he last read. Finding a spot beneath a Weeping Willow on the banks of the river, Adam read.

The story was predictable, the things he had been fed as a spoiled little brat of unconditional love in the face of adversity, impossible magical happenstances and happy endings. The characters hardly evolved past falling in love and there was a particular page that had a corner missing, as if something had eaten it off. But he loved it because it was Belle's. Every page he turned, he imagined Belle turning it too as she sat in the town square. Every line he read, he could feel Belle's country-girl heart yearning for such things to happen to her. It bored him to death to read something as child-directed as this, but he felt the need to – to keep a bit of her with him; to bridge the rift of towns, ridges and valleys between him and her.

However, not even that fantasy connection could keep him from falling asleep in the warm afternoon. It was only much later, when the sun was just below the horizon, that he heard it: the sound of hooves heavy of the ground near him. The terrible neigh shocked his system into consciousness, the book falling off his face as he shot up. Still yawning and groggy, his blurry vision could make out a dark silhouette approaching fast and smoothly. His eyes adjusted in time for a demon of a pure black stallion to run past him, its burgundy leash billowing behind it and latching into the prince's boot.

Adam gave a rather girly shriek as he found himself dragged along the bank, twigs and rocks cutting into his back and whipping his face. His arms flailed helplessly to his side as he shouted and yelled for the damn creature's attention. Oh, how he wished he had claws to sink into its backside.

After several attempts, he was able to sit up straight and reach for the leash in his foot. He yanked at it, so that the horse kicked the air with its front legs and he stood. He felt something pop in his shoulder as the horse tried to bolt again.

"You little –"he tried again, nicer, "Shh…shh it's ok, boy. What's wrong?" The stallion jerked its head away from his hands, its frenzied eyes and piercing neighs focused on the river. Only now it seemed more like rapids than the peaceful current of earlier. And hopelessly lost in it, riding the current, was a body.

Without wasting a second, Adam leapt into the dark, icy blue. The water filled his lungs and he could hardly see the bubbles that escaped his lips. The ice felt like daggers digging into his clothes, attacking every sensitive pore – his balls were not saved from the torture.

He resurfaced again, his hair dripping in his eyes as he tried to reach the body. The current was advantageous and that, coupled with his hasty strokes, allowed him to reach what was now a burly man. He tried to grab the man's arm, but failed when he felt how hard and cold it was. The water kicked him back a bit and he reached again, this time digging his nails into the solid flesh. His arms cried when he tried to push the body closer to his and drape the arm over his shoulders. The body was too heavy and Adam was submerged again – this man had spent too long in the water that his body had turned blue.

Working against the current and keeping his victim above water was using all of Adam's energy as he fought for the banks. His one arm was around the man's waist, the other trying madly to get them out the water. The rapids mockingly slapped his face and blurred his vision and the roar of the water was deafening. A rather mean rapid crashed as Adam took a breath and his lungs contracted as he inhaled the water. His body slowed down and became heavy. He couldn't control his fingers.

He was going to die like this. Saving some faceless man from drowning only to die himself. The irony was not lost on him.

Then he heard it. The neigh. It would seem the stallion had continued to follow them and was now awkwardly moving in the water towards them. Had he the energy, Adam would have cried out in joy. He focused his energy on grabbing for the leash and prayed that the horse could get both of them out.

The stallion marched with a dogged determination and Adam nearly cried when his cheek roughly rubbed the grass. He couldn't feel anything, but he was certain it was amazing. Shaking himself, he turned to the bloated, blue figure on the grass next to him. He leant a shivering ear towards the man's lips to check for breathing. He panicked when he couldn't hear much.

Hands pressed to the man's chest, he put all his weight into driving down on the ribs. Once, twice, three times. Once, twice, three times. He covered the blue nose and pressed his lips to the frozen, chapped mouth. It was like kissing an icicle. He breathed, once, twice, each breath one he himself desperately needed to keep conscious. The world was spinning, but he wouldn't succumb until he knew the man was alive.

He repeated this ritual two more times before the figure seemed to take a sharp intake of breath, and cough up buckets of water. Adam rolled him over so he didn't swallow the water and looked pleadingly at the stallion, who was nudging – undoubtedly – his master's face.

"I-if you under…understand me," his voice seemed frozen too, "…castle…n-now…quick"

The horse's ears went back as if to say Oh, it understood him alright, and allowed Adam to lift the man – and himself – onto its back before charging at breakneck speed.

Adam didn't know how long far it took for them to reach his home, but they burst into the entrance hall, much to the surprise of his worried servants who had gathered there.

"MASTER!" Mrs Potts looked near tears as she pushed up to the stallion. Adam could barely register her small hand on his knee. She took one look at his wet, torn clothes, swollen and blue lips and scratched face before letting out a dismayed cry. He raised a shaking hand.

"T-this man's hurt…hel...help h-him. Plea…" he felt the world turn and was on the floor without knowing why.

His servants, his friends jostled around him and felt his forehead and pulse. Mrs Potts, Cogsworth and a very guilty-looking Lumière surrounded the other body, inspecting it then bolting upright, looking at each other in unadulterated shock.

"Is it…?" Mrs Potts stage-whispered.

"Couldn't be…"

"…but very likely is," Cogsworth paled.

Chip, who was at Adam's side, sidled up between the adults and gasped loudly.

"Mama, isn't that the man that tried to kill the Master?"

*_Je suis tellement desolé, vraiment_ = I am truly sorry, really (I am).

Yes Adam knows some basic First Aid ^^ Hope this chapter didn't bore the crap outta y'all!


	3. Once Upon A Time: Adam Had To Decide

Being a prince was a curse. A horrible affliction that Adam would have wished away if it were not selfish and un-prince like for him to do. Princes were self-sacrificing to a fault, forever conscientious and eternally chivalrous. A true prince would always put others before himself and carelessly risk their lives for women they'd just met (only to marry her immediately).

A true prince would certainly never _think_ of dumping a man back into a river he'd just saved him from.

Prince Adam gazed at his arch-nemesis. The fool was barely moving, his chest rising and falling so slightly one could miss it if they weren't looking closely. The deep blue that had once covered his body had faded into a deathly grey. The bloating had decreased significantly, but his fingers, toes and cheeks were still pruned and soft and would have expelled water if Adam squeezed them. However, Adam felt no need to breathe the same air as the mongrel, let alone allow skin-to-skin. And yet he could not pry his eyes away, could not turn his heel and march out of the makeshift infirmary. He didn't even have the heart to find something remotely blunt to bash the buffoon's brains out. All he could do was helplessly stare at the pathetically helpless man as he fought for his life.

* * *

_He awoke with a headache. In the pitch black darkness as he tried shifting his limbs off the bed, Adam realised that all of him seemed to hurt. The prince woozily stood upon only to fall promptly back into the sheets. The world spun faster than he could manage. His throat grated with every sharp intake – he needed water. He needed food. He needed to know what happened to the man. Was he alive? Who was he?_

* * *

Gaston…wasn't it? What a waste of such a handsome name. It didn't suit him, or rather, it didn't suit his personality. From what Adam recalled seeing during their first – rather heated – encounter, the man hadn't been bad-looking. Mind, it was very rainy and windy out and there was very little time to focus on a face that was _trying to kill you_.

* * *

_Cogsworth was being evasive. He was like that, especially if he knew of something that might upset his master. He'd bumble and blanch and look everywhere but at his master's face._

_"W-well, you see, Master…in your c-c-current state, perhaps…not t-that we're h-h-h-…hiding something or anything…."_

_Adam huffed, his eyes going uncharacteristically narrow. He didn't like not knowing things, especially when they concerned him. And, if memory served correctly, the last time his servants plotted against him, a certain brunette found a way into his heart…_

_"Cogsworth…" he snarled baring the point of an unnaturally sharp canine, "I need not remind you who the Master of this house is."_

_ "N-nnnnot at all, Master!" the man's pupil's dilated._

_"WHERE. IS. HE. Do not make me ask again."_

_"B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-but..!" the manservant shivered at the animalistic look in his prince's eyes before mumbling dejectedly, "he's in the West Wing, Sire."_

_"The West Wing? Is this some kind of joke?" Said Sire felt an anger boiling in his heart, "The West Wing I had SPECIFICALLY curtained off? THAT WEST WING!?"_

_Cogsworth was shivering in earnest when Adam had reached for his throat. The irate prince watched the fat little man squirm and squeal under his grasp, the skin on the man's face turning a sickly white as he suffocated. Good. Let the conniving little clock choke on his own saliva._

_ Adam caught himself in time – this was not the most regal way to deal with anger or betrayal. It still didn't stop him being angry though, nor did it quell the tingle of satisfaction he felt as he lessened his grip and tossed his gasping manservant out of the way._

_ "Pray to GOD I don't snap you like a twig the next time I see you."_

* * *

The West Wing held too many memories; too many truths about the monster he had become. He hadn't changed it either – he wouldn't allow himself to forget. There was still his portrait, ripped from corner to corner, still visible layers of dust hanging on every surface. There were shreds of rich velvet curtains and throws hanging from broken pieces of foundation and that rose…that damned rose. What was left of it lay crumpled under its glass container, dead petals strewn everywhere. Adam shivered from a slight gust of cold wind that had found its way into the room. Even though the balcony doors were shut, there was a large part of glass missing from the bay window. _From their first encounter_, Adam remembered.

* * *

_He felt the world, once again, rocking back and forth in a nauseating fashion. That face…bloated though it was there was no mistaking who lay in his West Wing, in his bed. _

_"How could you not wake me," it wasn't a question, but a silent demand that was directed at Mrs Potts. The poor woman looked slightly insulted, but mostly hurt, at the address._

_"You've been unconscious for two days, Master. Forgive me in thinking that you'd need to recuperate FULLY before receiving the news."_

_Adam wanted to shout at her, throw her against something and yell until his nanny wet herself._ _But he couldn't bring himself to do it to the woman who was like a mother to him. He couldn't find the strength to hold himself up. He turned to the still figure._

_"I should kill him where he stands," the prince heard a voice resonate in the room. It couldn't have been his, because he would never say something so ghastly._

_Mrs Potts' double chin wobbled in worry. She stepped forward, hesitantly raising her small hand to place on his forearm. "Master?"_

_She had yet to touch him, but Adam already shied away. His mind was set on one thought alone. _

_"Leave me."_

_Mrs Potts took a step back. Was she really hearing this?_

_"Leave me woman!" his whisper had become a deep resonating growl. The royal nanny wasted no time in rushing out the West Wing as fast as she could, giving a last reproachful glance at the prince as she hurried out the door._

* * *

Adam felt his back stiffly fall against the back of a broken chair, unaware of how he had managed to move himself on the other side of the room – especially since his eyes had never left his slumbering nemesis. If there ever was an opportunity, now was it. He could take out all his anger and depression with a simple swipe of a blade – revenge would surely provide _some_ comfort. Right?

He made to move, to execute his plan, but his body had conspired against him. He stayed rigid in his chair, his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Would it truly be the best choice? Kill a dying man? Where was the honour in slaying a human being who could not even defend himself?

The prince clenched his fist. As much as he hated the man, this…_imbecile_…deserved a chance at life.

The door creaked open slightly, and Mrs Potts' nightcap popped into Adam's line of vision. He exhaled a resigned sigh, before beckoning her in. The sweet British woman hesitantly trotted in and stopped to glance nervously at the bed.

"Yes, he's still alive," Adam mumbled impatiently. His legs seemed to be working again as he pulled himself off the chair and stiffly laboured himself towards the door.

"Just until he's better, alright? Then…I'll see," Mrs Potts gave her annoyingly wise I-Just-Knew-You'd-Do-The-Right-Thing smile as the Prince sulked towards the door. Being a prince was horrible.

"And…I'm sorry if I came across as somewhat… rude."

"It's alright, Master. Now go get some rest."

Yes – being a prince was – dare he say it? – pure damnation.


	4. Once Upon A Time: Adam Paid A Visit

**A/N: AT LAST Gaston makes a (conscious) appearance! I'm going to try my best to make this initial interaction in character – especially since the two have never actually had a conversation (too busy killing each other, I guess) ^_^**

* * *

He'd be damned if he was going to visit that…_thing_…again. Adam was going to stay as far away from that room as possible, and he was not going to think about the evil man with the ice bucket eyes. He. Was. Not. Going. To. See. Him. Because seeing him meant having to deal with him, and the prince had yet to decide the most dignified plan of action.

It was going well the morning after he'd been to the West Wing. The spring was giving away to summer, and Adam had decided to amble about in the palace gardens. He tried, _very hard_, not to think about the glorious winter he'd spent there with Belle, but she seemed to be everywhere. Her breath was the air, her warmth the sun, her laughter the birds' song. Where was she now? Why had she not thought of contacting him, letting him know she was alive? They may have no longer been betrothed, but he was still her closest friend – she owed him that much. Although his thoughts had not turned to the stagnating enemy in the West Wing, Adam sadly left before his mind focused on the number of men his former fiancée might have taken since.

The afternoon was a little more difficult. Adam had been writing certain letters to reconnect himself with dignitaries of various kingdoms and countries. Certainly not the most interesting thing to do and Adam found his mind trailing. Such a beautiful vessel for such a hideous soul – the man hardly looked like the ego-centric bastard that had succeeded in murdering him. But one cannot really judge a book by its cover, can they?

By evening, all he could think about was…Gaston. _Mais vraiment_, the name did not sit well on his tongue. All through his unnecessarily rich dinner, his mind focused on the West Wing. To avoid loneliness, he ate with most of the staff in the large dining hall – that man must be eating gruel by himself. Was he even eating?

"Go see him, dear," Mrs Potts intercepted him on his way to bed. She gathered his arm in hers and shuffled him in the opposite direction, "The poor thing's been alone for so long, and it would do him good to have some company."

"Can I not see him tomorrow? He isn't going anywhere."

"You'll have to deal with him eventually, Master. No time like the present!"

Adam knew better than to go against the smaller woman at times like this. He'd also been feeling guilty about how poorly he'd been treating everyone of late. It still didn't make him feel any less nervous.

"It's dark and he might be sleeping. Tomorrow, I beg you. I just need to think of what to say!"

Mrs Potts raised a delicate white eyebrow at him. "Alright then, dear. If you say so. But remember one thing."

"What?"

She smiled knowingly, "Control your temper!"

* * *

_The crack of dawn constitutes as a new day_, Adam reasoned as he paced outside the West Wing door. He couldn't find it in himself to sleep. Not until he saw that the bastard was doing alright or, at the very least, was courteous enough to pass on during the night.

Gathering his courage, the prince stilled himself, hands on one of the large double doors. No time like the present…

Adam only made it half a step into the orange-lit room before he heard a _whooshing _noise a sharp pain pierced through the side of face. He reached to rub his sore cheek and the sting intensified. Drawing his hand back, he saw a small smear of red. Something silver shone out of the corner of his eye: a polished fork, stuck in the wood of the doorway.

A fork. The bastard had attacked him with a fork. And had drawn blood.

_Control your temper. Control your temper._

"How dare you feed me such disgusting trash?! Don't you know who I am?!" A pompous tenor rang out, "No one feeds garbage to Gaston!"

_Control your temper…control your temper…_

It would seem that he hadn't been eating gruel after all, but a plate of last night's dinner. Apparently what was good enough for the bloody _Prince_ wasn't good enough for this uncultured oaf.

_Control. Temper. Control. Temper._

"Garbage? Fine then – next time, I'll just let you starve!"

The shadows huffed, "Fine then! See if I care!"

Adam crossed his arms across his chest and marched further in, half expecting the jerk to throw more cutlery at him. Where was the gratitude? The humility? Adam was even willing to make due with a simple: _Thank you for risking your life so that I may once again steal oxygen from the worthy_.

"You'd think you'd show some politeness to the man who saved your life!" he snapped, stopping at the foot of the bed.

Gaston was looking much healthier, if not incredibly pale from his bed rest. His eyes were clear and narrowed as he rested against a pillow and mirrored Adam's body language. The soft dark hairs of his chest curled over his arms and he stuck his bearded chin in the air.

"Some rescue alright! No doctors to wake me up, bad food – and what is this place anyway? How dare you shove _me_ knee-deep in filth?!" if possible, his eyes narrowed more. "And who ARE you?" he rudely spat.

It had never occurred to Adam that he would not be recognisable to his archenemy. So it would seem that the man was rude and ungrateful to _everyone._

_Control…control….con…TROL..._

"I," Adam growled back, "am the master of this castle and the only reason you're alive." He crossed over to the bed side and glared down at the insolent man, "You, are an inconvenience and still breathing because your corpse would be a bigger inconvenience. So you will eat my…_garbage_, you will heal and you will LEAVE. But first, you WILL treat my house and its inhabitants with the respect they deserve. And you will bathe. Thoroughly. Several times."

The man in the bed snarled, but his nose was twitching – no doubt trying to smell himself. Adam turned on his heel before he could no longer resist the urge to stab his murderer. He was almost at the door before another _whooshing _and something silver collided with his shoulder.

_Forget control. KILL HIM!_

Seeing red, he pulled the butter knife out of its shallow place and launched it towards the bed. He did not linger to see if he had made his mark, but from the snarky laughter that followed him down the corridor, he guessed his aim was off.

* * *

**_Mais vraiment:_**** But really**

**I'm sorry if it seems like Adam's anger comes from bloody nowhere (and is not nearly as convincing as it should be!). Just pretend I mentioned how seeing Gaston brought the memory of that fateful night when they fought blah blahdy blah… **

**AND THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! .**


	5. Once Upon A Time: Gaston Remembered

**A/N: Typed this story a LOOOONG time ago, and to see it's doing well...please stay with it people, despite how you feel about it!**

* * *

Prince Adam had been taught about the virtues of forgiveness. He had been trained to, if Satan was dangling off a cliff, help him up and hand him his flaming pitchfork. _Remember Adam, no matter how badly someone wrongs you, always forgive. To err is human, to forgive is Divine._

Adam had tried, he really had. Ever since the spell had been broken, he'd tried to keep a leash on his trigger-happy temper and he had put a concerted effort into being as kind and caring as possible. He had let his one true love free to wander the world as she so desired, even though it had been to his detriment. He had even saved his mortal enemy from a watery grave.

Surely God would not hold it against him for what he was about to do.

"You want me to _what_?" Babette gasped, her short hair sweeping across her chin as she bowed her chin in disbelief.

"Please, Babette, I feel just as bad about this as I should," _which isn't very much, in all honesty,_ "Just, do as I say, alright? I am still your Master."

"But Master, without food, surely he will die!"

"_Silence_ woman, do you want the whole castle to know!? Intercept whatever meal goes to the West Wing. Feed it to homeless people or wolves – I truly don't care what you do with it, but _that bastard will not eat_. Understood?"

Babette looked somewhat sceptical, but she did not look like she was about to argue. Babette had been known to be a rather vindictive woman when need be, even if she did not seem eager to be an accomplice to this nefarious plan.

Adam watched the maid's uncomfortably tight skirt stretch and squeeze as she trotted off to dust something. He hoped she wouldn't tell Mrs Potts, for then the woman would skin him alive for being so petty. But she hadn't been in that room with him; hadn't heard what had been said. And it had nothing to with her – although she was older and (on occasion) wiser than him, this was still his castle and his say was final. He just hoped that, for once, his servants actually obeyed him.

* * *

They had not.

"What part of 'starve the ass' did you not understand?!" the frustrated Prince hissed to himself as he watched another plate disappear into that evil room. If all had been going according to plan, it would have only taken a few days to drive the man out of his life. As it happened, it had been near a week and he was sure his _loyal_ servants had been fattening the little pig up so that he'd never leave.

Well, surely he had been rested, watered and fed substantially enough to send him on his way. Adam had grown tired of avoiding places of his own castle and even wearier of having to control his train of thought so his mind wouldn't wander. It was time for the man to leave.

But things were decidedly different from their first visitation. For one, his arch enemy was on his feet very mobile. Secondly, it was a broken piece of glass that was launched at him. Thirdly, Adam had the sense to dodge it.

The dusty curtains had been pulled open and an unnatural amount of light now brought the disarray of the West Wing to light. The once-dying man was leaning against the large arch to the balcony, letting the sun cast shadows on the dissatisfied scowl he threw Adam. Adam's reply was to smirk – this time he wasn't leaving with any scars. He did, however, stay in the doorway to ensure it stayed that way.

His rival's eyes narrowed and he tilted his chin upward, huffing as he returned his gaze outside. He was looking better, almost at perfect health, and remarkably well fed. The villain was just in white undergarments, the shirt tossed aside and his burly chest flexing painfully defined abdominals as he breathed. However his movements, Adam noted as the man shifted to cross his uncles and rest his arm against the balcony's pillar, were still lethargic. He still needed to regain complete control of his body.

Tense seconds ticked by as Adam thought of a _civil_ way to kick the still-healing man from his temporary haven when he nearly jumped out of his skin at the words:

"I know you."

"Pardon?" he cursed himself for sounding so startled. Without looking at him, his enemy stuck his chin out and haughtily repeated himself.

"I know who you are now. Almost didn't recognise you – not as much _fur_ as last time," Adam didn't know if it was the hint of contempt behind the words or the words themselves that started the bubbling anger in his stomach.

The bastard hunter wouldn't leave it at that either. Languidly turning so his back was to the pillar and he faced Adam entirely, he lifted his head and glared Adam down through long thick lashes. His hands gestured effortlessly.

"What's the matter, Beast? Too _kind_ and _gentle_ to let an old rival die? Or did Belle promise her little pet a little pet?" he cooed condescendingly, a sneer tugging at his lips.

"Shut _up_," Adam felt his face redden and his fists clench from more than just Gaston's words. Strangely enough, Belle hadn't crossed his mind in almost a week and he could not fight the shred of guilt that dug in his side.

Twin narrowed glaciers twinkled and the raven-head bared a small fang as his sneer grew. "Oh dear, have I struck a nerve? Have I made you _upset_?" a large hand made its way to the bare chest in a slightly effeminate manner as he leaned forward in mock concern.

Adam was a few strides away from counterproductively killing the man against the pillar. The prince's heart was in overdrive from pumping blood into his head and fists and his breathing was laboured. The reason he was in the West Wing was completely forgotten.

His provoker couldn't get enough of it, "What are you going to do, Beast? Kill me? Or bake me a cake? Do hurry."

Adam felt something in him snap. He knew what those mocking eyes, deep tone and foppish gestures were doing: taunting him. Adam didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but it was proving a hard task. The best option was to leave while he could still direct the flow of his fists.

Sucking in a much-needed breath, the blonde turned away slowly, not trusting himself with sudden movements. This, however, was not pleasing to some.

"Wh…where are you going!? How DARE you, you little freak!? No one walks out on Gaston!"

Was it this easy to rifle the fool? Adam should have thought about it earlier – someone as egocentric as Gaston would certainly hate being ignored.

Adam didn't even have to slow down to hear the indignant spluttering and didn't turn around when a broken doorknob was propelled after him.

He merely dodged it.

* * *

**A/N: I feel a little more satisfied with this interaction: Gaston seems like a big, obnoxious child to me! ^^ If you're wondering why I describe Gaston in such a foppy, effeminate manner, it's because of the way he holds himself in the movie. Look closely – he's WAY more fluid than a macho man should be (no offense)! ^^ **


	6. Once Upon A Time: There Were Fights

**A/N: Okay, okay…I'm going to stop making people read overly long paragraphs of emo!Adam and his issues and put in more angry smexy Gaston action! Not THAT kind yet…**

* * *

Another item flew across the room – Adam's favourite teapot, believe it or not. A small part of the blond beauty wanted to rush after it and catch it before it hit the ground. The main part was glaring at the figure who had thrown it.

"Your aim is off, _Great Hunter_."

That did the trick. The angular, chiselled face contorted in contempt and he disappeared onto the balcony in a strop. Adam's second hunch was correct – the man hated criticism. It would seem that nobody in his small provincial town had bothered to notice any of the hunter's flaws, never mind point them out.

Adam halted, not sure if he should follow the man outside. The rail was not high enough and the raveen a great distance below. The temptation to push the other man over might prove too great. But he couldn't exactly hold a conversation – or argument – out of earshot, so with a sigh he echoed the hunter's footsteps.

A sudden gust of wind found its way under Adam's shirt. Up ahead, taunting fate by sitting on the banister, glistening black waves were obscuring a rather malicious expression.

"So what's the occasion _this _time? You do know you saw me yesterday?" the haughty tenor carried over.

Adam leaned on the banister, making sure he was out of the brute's reach. "You look better every day," he stated matter-of-factly. No need to be at each other's throats just yet.

The man opposite him (for Adam would not admit that they were sitting close to each other) looked genuinely surprised at hearing the blonde's words. He covered the shock with a smug smirk and a tilted chin. "I know."

God, the man was a narcissist. It was vexing and entertaining at the same time. "So much better that you can hop on your horse and trot out my castle."

"Now?" a thick eyebrow was raised and the other man shifted so that he was no longer sitting. The vulnerability of his positioning had clearly only just occurred to him.

"_Mon Dieu_, _monsieur_ – so soon? Well, if you insist…" The words by themselves were sincere. But Adam raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, his face and tone of voice clearly stating otherwise. A small lock of golden hair found its way out of his ribbon and waved in front of his face with abandon.

Said _monsieur_ narrowed his crystal irises and pursed his lips before getting up slowly. His bare feet hardly made a sound as he slowly advanced. Everything in Adam suggested he move out the way of a possible attack, but his eyes locked on the form closing the small distance between them and the near feral eyes. They were inches apart, breathing each other's air and Adam felt a little part of him swoon. Well, not necessarily _swoon_…a little part of him felt _dizzy_ from breathing the other man's carbon. And only for that reason.

Seconds that felt like seasons ticked away and neither the hero nor the villain moved. Icecaps met light blue sky, transfixed. He had obviously taken Adam's advice and opted for a bath, because he looked so clean and smelt so _good. _Adam never thought that the human he hated more than life itself would radiate such warmth that seemed to burn into his skin. He was almost too afraid, too _excited_, to reach out and see if the heat was real.

"I could push you off, nice and easy," there was still that boorish self-indulgence, only the voice was lower in pitch, softer, smoother.

Something in Adam's chest did an involuntary flip. This was not good. Surely it was only because he was potentially dead. "Liar," he managed to breathe out, a shakily smirk adorning his lips. It was getting too intense and he needed air before he strangled the dark mass of muscles; before he wrestled him to the ground and…

Those hard, mean lips quirked and Adam was given the space that he so desperately craved. He sucked in too much air and felt it instantly go to his brain.

"So true, _Your Majesty_. I like it when my prey fights back."

Adam had to control his eyes from falling out his head. _Prey?_ He was someone's _prey?_ As if he was some thoughtless, weak doe ambling through the undergrowth and incapable of defending itself. Suddenly the anger resurfaced and Adam was mildly relieved. He could deal with anger.

He shot himself up, desperate to get some of the power back. He then remembered his irritation tactics and shot the object of his deep passionate hatred a saccharine smile. He made back into the room, stopping eye-to-nose with the raven-head to pat him amicably on the shoulder.

"Why _monsieur, _with your aim I suppose I'll be _very_ much alive come hunting season," his smile turned genuine when the thug's smug air was replaced with a dark scowl as he glared down at Adam.

"My aim is _perfect_. I'm still recuperating, you'll see!"

"Can't wait," Adam threw the sugary-sweet phrase over his shoulder as he strode out the Room of Evil.

Naturally dodging his favourite teacup as it flew after him.

* * *

"That's the biggest horse I've ever seen, isn't it Mama?" Chip bounced on the balls of his feet, reaching his small hands towards the creature. Mrs Potts held him back with an equally tiny hand, chortling slightly, "Now, Chip, it isn't good manners to go around touching people's animals. Why don't you look at the other horses with Louis? There's a good boy. Have you been to see him, dear?"

The last part had been directed at Adam as Mrs Potts left her son with the young, pock-marked stable boy. The large coal stallion before him rolled its bloodshot eyes and perked its ears backward, baring its large, blunt teeth in a threat.

"Horrible little creature," Mrs Potts said neutrally as she straightened up and stared the horse in the eye, "Could've had me Chip's finger in a heartbeat!"

Adam stood a safe distance away from the beast's stall door, feet shoulder-length apart and hands clasped firmly around the riding crop behind his back. His loose hair was slightly windswept and his race flushed in the afterglow of a good healthy ride. His intention was to break the stallion in, have him live in the palace stables, but the animal – much like its master – was irrationally difficult. It had been an exhilarating hour trying to keep on the thing though.

"What should I do Mrs Potts? I go to the West Wing with good intentions but… he makes me so _mad_…" he wasn't going to talk about the other disconcerting feeling the horse's owner forced upon him.

"Well, for starters you can feed the poor dear," Adam inwardly cringed at the no-nonsense tone of his minder's voice, "Honestly, Adam, the boy's only human! If you wanted him dead you should have left him floating!"

"I didn't _choose_ to – do you hear that?" Adam's tirade was cut off by the rustling of bushes. He'd been feeling watched ever since he left the West Wing a fortnight ago. He pinned it off to paranoia and the heat but at times like this he wasn't sure.

"Stop changing the subject!" Mrs Potts looked right peeved, "How would you feel if you were him? Rejected by the woman you love and forced to live at the mercy of the man you lost her to? Poor thing."

"You forget I lost her too."

"That's enough out of you. You brought this all on yourself. Now go get washed up for lunch. I mean it – go!"

* * *

As the feeling left the back of Adam's head, he knew he hadn't been paranoid. As he felt the blunt connection to the nape of his neck, he knew that he should have been more vigilant.

And all before he'd even gotten into the castle.

He'd been on the bridge, slowly moving his tired thighs towards the imposing structure. The heat had beat down on his back and he had removed the white cotton shirt that had stuck to his back.

All of a sudden he'd been on his stomach, feeling the small trickle of blood trail down his head. Above him, someone roared. On instinct he rolled to the left, narrowly missing the axe as it clanked against the stone. The sudden movement made Adam dizzy, but his reasoning was in hyper-drive. He needed to defend himself and he needed to do it inside.

He shot his leg up and it connected with something warm and soft, making his attacker howl. He heard the axe drop behind him and used the opportunity to scramble to his feet and bolt for the doors. The sound of heavy, laboured footsteps was not far behind him.

He burst through the doors, making a tapestry jump. Lumière and Babette slid out from under it, looking guilty until they saw their master covered in dirt and bleeding down his front.

"_Sacre bleu!_ Master, what is the meaning of this!?" Lumière moved towards his frenzied master but not before the door burst open again.

Adam took in the dark boots, black tights and tight red shirt before his eyes recognised the face, "_YOU!"_

The houseguest known as Gaston gave a grin as manic as his gaze, _"Bon nuit_,_ Bete."_

Adam hardly had time to gape at the lunatic before he was tackled to the ground, fists connecting to whatever part of the prince they could reach. Not one to be bested, Adam placed his knee between them and turned to his side. The madman was thrown onto the ground beside him and Adam clamoured up, trying to reach the stairs. He felt the red runner burn his stomach and nipples and gave a slight yowl as he was pulled by his leg.

He turned as much as he could and bent his leg, flexing it so he kicked the larger man in the stomach. His assailant staggered back a bit with a dark expression, before going blank and falling unceremoniously between Adam's legs.

"Is he dead?" Babette gasped as she looked over the body, the frying pan still raised above her head.

So began the assassination attempts.

* * *

**_Mon Dieu, monsieur:_**** My God, good sir (loosely translated)**

**_Sacre bleu:_**** "Sacred blue" which is like "Good Heavens"**

**_Bon nuit, Bete:_**** Good night, Beast**

**A/N: The runner that I mention is the red carpet that runs down the stairs to the front door ^^. Sorry if the fight seemed contrived…it sounded better in my head!^^ **


	7. Once Upon A Time: Death Distracted Adam

**A/N: Because it will start getting rather unoriginal and will quite possibly make me forget that this is a smut fic, the fights will be sorta montaged. On to the fic!**

* * *

To say that Mrs Potts was livid was gross understatement.

"To say that I'm livid is a GROSS understatement," Mrs Potts seethed at the two men in front of her. They were reclining on Adam's king-sized bed, both nursing wounds from the fight.

The blond had a bloodied bandage wound around his head and was gingerly touching the parts of his torso that had acquired a rather nasty case of rug burn. Whatever wasn't swollen and red was swollen and blue from wild punches.

The brunette had a bag of ice positioned between his legs and something of a bandage cap from where the maid had assaulted him. His lip was busted and his nose looked slightly broken from when he had collapsed face first.

Neither acknowledged the other's presence.

Mrs Potts looked between the two, "Is there no way you boys could bury the hatchet?"

Adam pointed enthusiastically at the man next to him, "_He _tried!"

"Oh pipe down, you big baby," came the deep counter, "It was the _back_ of the axe. I was saving the front for when you were knocked out! That gives you no reason to attack my family jewels!"

"It's called _self-defence_, you imbecile!"

"That's enough! _Monsieur _Gaston, what kind of guest goes around killing his host? How _dare_you, after all the Master's done for you?! You egotistical, selfish, ungrateful ingrate! I should have you hanged, drawn and quartered!"

The bigger of the two went a whiter shade of pale, his eyes wide in shock. It would seem that no one had ever put him in his place about anything. Adam sniggered – trust Mrs Potts to silence even the most unruly of villains. His gloating, however, was cut short when the small woman rounded on him.

"And don't get me started on _you_, Master! I thought you had been taught better; I thought _I_ had taught you better! At this rate, you're no worse than this man and I will _not_ have my son grow up learning such uncultured, aggressive, degenerative practices!

She placed her hands on her wide hips, glaring at both startled men, "So what if both your hearts were broken by the same woman? So what if one technically killed the other? That should have been water under the bridge the moment you saved _you!_ For God's sake, the pair of you, GROW UP!"

Neither man said anything as the no-longer-as-small-as-she-seemed woman briskly left, her skirts bustling in her frustration. Almost in unison, the pair tore their gazes from where she had stood and stared at each other.

"Well, that was rather uncalled for," Gaston said pompously.

"Imagine growing up with her," Adam replied, returning his attention to his enflamed right nipple. It was stiff and red and gave him a masochistic sting of pleasure every time he gingerly touched it.

It took a while for Adam to notice he was being stared at. He returned the gaze, only to notice that the icy irises were not focused on his face, but on his injured nipple. A part of Adam stirred when he saw that his enemy wore an unreadable expression, his thick black lashes hooding glazed-over eyes with dilated pupils.

The weight of the situation wrapped itself around Adam, as he watched his nemesis watch him touch himself on his bed. It sounded like the start of something rather dangerous and exhilarating and Adam didn't know if he was right of mind to be entertaining such fantasies.

Their eyes met; a tense electricity between them. Adam was very aware of how alone they were, how quick it would be to lock the door; how something had to stop this foolishness.

"Belle dropped you too?" Gaston said the magic words that broke the spell. Adam flinched, as if the man had struck him again. Where had his promise of everlasting love gone? His willingness to wait on her to return? He was willing to throw away all memories of his one true love for a moment of sinful bliss. Displacing his anger, Adam narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, making sure his wounded nipple was hidden from view.

"None of your business," he spat, looking away. He was shocked, and insulted, to receive the large burst of laughter.

For the second time that day, Adam gaped. The man seemed to hoot and holler obnoxiously, his torso shaking and tears springing from the effort. He was cut short, however, when he grimaced and pulled the ice pack closer to his groin.

"Serves you right," Adam muttered bitterly. He figured the pain to the man's genitals was punishment enough for making his broken heart the butt of a joke.

He was still sniggering though, "So I'm guessing she's the four-legs-and-fur type?"

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, too tired to get riled up, "Don't talk about Belle like that."

"Still a sore topic, isn't it Beast? Wouldn't want the kind and gentle Beast _crying_, would we? How pathetic – were you always this sappy?"

Adam pinched harder, "Out!"

"Oh I'm leaving," the young prince blatantly ignored the slight disappointment he felt as the bed got lighter. Daring a peek, he watched his rival waddle arrogantly towards the door, ice pack firmly in place. The wounded man stopped, one hand on the door.

"Belle's disappearing act doesn't change a thing," eyes like ice narrowed, showering Adam in that cold, wet feeling again.

"Hell or high water, Beast, you _will _die by my hand."

* * *

"_Encore!? Vraiment!?" _Adam jumped leapt out the way as a dark mass, ululating, flew off the chandelier. He didn't give it a second thought to grab the sword off a nearby suit of armour and engage in some serious self-defense. The now beardless man smirked, glinting perfectly straight white teeth as he wielded his machete.

Fighting for his life in his own home was becoming a daily ritual for the young prince. He spent every minute looking over his shoulder and starting at every small movement. Every time he walked into a room, the prince had already mapped out several escape routes and a possible weapon should he be forced to fight back. Cogsworth observed that his body seemed tensed. Lumière commented on his enhanced sense of hearing. Chip marvelled at his lightning reflexes. Babette politely asked him not to use the tapestries for shielding. Mrs Potts merely smiled in that annoying way of hers.

"Having fun, dear?" she asked as he was knocked into a wall. He merely grunted a reply before launching himself onto his opponent.

Their battles always left him covered in sweat, blood and bruises, out of breath and unreasonably excited. Adam had tried to avoid entertaining the bastard's ideas on "unfinished business" by merely deflecting attacks. Indeed, the prince had entertained the waterlogged buffoon first out of an innate need, nurtured by his feral years, to prove he was capable of compassion. In fact, there was nothing stopping the blond from charging Gaston with attempted assassination; from crying treason to be rid of his sworn enemy forever.

But there was something undeniably _good_ about landing a well-placed punch or using the right fencing combination to slice a fairly deep wound. There was a thrill that once again livened the air Adam breathed. There was the relief of channelling a trigger-happy temper on something that deserved it. It was – dare he say it? – _fun. _It became less about survival and more about satisfaction, not that his enemy minded. In fact, the man seemed to revel in Adam's resistance.

"He's a lovely distraction, isn't he?" a freckled nursemaid had said one particularly hot day as she handed the blond an ice pack. Adam used his good eye to peer over to where Mrs Potts was lecturing and mending his…nemesis.

"Distraction from what?" he sneered when his gaze was met.

"From the young Mistress…I'm sorry I didn't mean to…! I'm going to stop talking now…" the poor girl flushed and busied herself silently.

It was true though, and Adam was surprised at how unaffected he was by this revelation. Whenever his mind wandered towards his former fiancée, there would be another attack – almost as if on cue. His mind had been so preoccupied with battle techniques and strategies and the pure adrenaline rush of skin-on-skin that he hadn't found the time to mope or grieve.

But he never thought much of it until his rival had collapsed – topless – on top of his equally topless self, tired from a particularly passionate battle in the palace gardens. The sun dried their hot, sticky bodies closer together, their legs tangled down to their boots. Adam could feel the other man's heart beating, horribly out of synch with his own and thumping uncomfortably against his ribcage. A thick, sweaty lock of black hair, torn loose in their haste, draped over his chin and across his shoulder and Adam was finding it hard to ignore the thigh nesting against his growing erection. He was finding it even harder to ignore what felt like the startings of an erection gently poking into _his _thigh.

"You're heavy," he huffed, suddenly claustrophobic and aware of every blade of grass under him. As discreetly as possible, he started wriggling away from under the larger man, but stopped abruptly when a large hand found a way to his hip and squeezed.

"_Ferme ta bouche,_" came the gruff reply, tickling the spot behind his ear and making him sigh deeply. A nose nuzzled into the nape of his neck and lips ghosted over the flesh they found there. The young prince manoeuvred his arm so that he could stroke and play with the damp curls and received a slight nip on his earlobe as gratitude.

As unsure as Adam was, it must have been at that moment.

There, on the last day of summer, battered and beaten in the palace gardens with tenting tights and sensuous lips brutalising his ear and well-placed legs gently rubbing humming groins.

It must have been then that Adam started calling him Gaston.

* * *

**_Encore:_**** Again**

**_Ferme ta bouche:_**** Shut your trap/ shut up**

**A/N: I felt good writing this chapter, because it's about time SOMETHING happened! Although - they will oscillate between hot and heavy and cold shouldering each other. I am well aware of the juxtaposition ^_^**


	8. Once Upon A Time: Gaston Went Too Far

**A/N: This chapter seemed a bit like a filler to me. However, if one looks at the psychology of someone like Gaston, it makes more sense ^_^**

* * *

Even before the curse, Adam had had a special place in his heart for beauty. He was a practicing heterosexual, but there was so much to appreciate in a broad chest, an angular jaw and large, expressive hands. Beautiful men were not on Adam's sexual agenda, but he was certainly fond of their air and company.

What the young prince had _not_ expected was to be aware of his stirrings for Gaston.

Gaston, Gaston, _Gaston_, Gaston…it excited Adam how easily the name came to his lips. His mind could conjure up an image of the man faster than a heartbeat and, more often than not, the blond found himself swooning slightly at the other man's voice.

They never did talk about that day they spent in each other's oppressive warmth that last day of summer. The very minute they disentangled themselves at the call of the luncheon bell; they had pretended nothing had changed. No one knew of what had happened and no one had dared look lower than each man's waist.

But something had changed in the air between them. Gaston had continued his on-going attempts at murder, certainly, but Adam no longer felt the need to fear for his life. Adam's battles with Gaston became more like two lion cubs in playful banter. Every object thrown at him seemed to be deliberately off course; every punch served only to bruise. In return, Adam had made sure to choose _only_ the bluntest weapons and his incisions were no more than superficial cuts. By the time it was hunting season, both gentlemen's wounds had healed and Gaston had successfully managed to keep Death at bay.

Adam looked up from his book when the tingling on the back of his neck had gotten too much. He met a familiar set of piercing eyes and welcomed the fluid sensation he always felt around them. The tall, dark man sitting on the other end of the table gave a small smirk and pulled something out from behind his chair. The tip of the arrow just gently touched the bridge of his nose.

Adam rolled his eyes. He had gone 20 minutes ignoring the insistent stare of his companion – a new personal record. He should have known better than to cave and stare back. Gaston's little way of requesting a fight had become staring at Adam until Adam made eye contact which, the blond discovered on many occasions, seemed to be confirmation. He would follow the former Beast everywhere, eagerly jumping into action when Adam did so much as glance in his general direction. Gaston's insatiable appetite for brawling was getting rather tiresome and quite annoying. Moreover, the brunette had recently taken to enthusiastic wrestling and Adam could not be sure if he could muster whatever restraint he had left.

He placed a hand on the base of the crossbow, gently pushing it out of his face before turning a page. He was met by a disgruntled whine and a sharp kick that threatened the delicate balance of his tilted chair. He opted for his best irritation technique and ignored Gaston.

_Three, two, one…_

"There is no way on EARTH that book is more interesting than Gaston!"

"Gaston, _chérie_, when _are _you leaving?" he drawled, eyes never leaving the page although he wasn't genuinely reading. He heard the clicking of the crossbow being put away and dared a glance.

Gaston crossed his deer-hide gloves over his clothed chest. That was the part of summer Adam missed the most – the growing cold played Hell with the other man's weakened immune system. By order of Mrs Potts, he was no longer allowed to wander the castle barely dressed like that wonderful time Adam intercepted him leaving one of the guest bathrooms. The fight provided Adam with sufficient glimpses and brushes against what seemed to be a rather sizeable…

Another kick to his chair brought him out of his licentious thoughts.

"You would kick a man out in the fall? You would let him freeze to death in the coldest seasons? Why Beast, you _do_ have a spine."

"I helped you out – don't make me help you _out_. Get lost," came the exasperated reply. Adam just wanted a lazy autumn day; reading Belle's book in the library. He was rather content with not doing anything with any tall, dark and handsome man.

Gaston's eyes narrowed and he set his lips into a thin line – he never did take rejection well. A well placed kick against the table and he was storming off to do something mindless elsewhere. Adam felt slightly guilty, but only slightly: the man was like a spoilt child and Adam would not be at his _every_ beck and call. Not all the time, anyways.

* * *

All Adam had wanted was one day off. Just _one_ afternoon to himself without having to babysit an extremely immature and outrageously handsome nemesis. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently so, because he hadn't seen the muscle-bound toddler in close to a week.

He couldn't find the man anywhere; even the blonde's attempts of making as much noise as possible seemed to fall on deaf ears. He had initially thought of it as a shift in strategy and had respected the larger man for it, but there was no possible reality in which Gaston's attention span could last so long. Adam had started to wonder if Gaston had actually taken his advice and left, but Cogsworth, Lumière, and several cleaning staff noted seeing and – being forced – to deal with him.

Adam knew that this was some childish retort – a kind of passive-aggressive punishment for not wanting to entertain the raven-head. Adam also knew that he should not cater to such stroppy behaviour and that Gaston would get bored and lonely eventually. This did not stop Adam himself, however, from being especially bored and lonely. There was not much to do other than hole up in the library, and the stifling silence offered Adam too many opportunities to think and brood.

And so, with bruised pride and a reluctant stride, the fifth morning saw Prince Adam on his way to the West Wing. He was going to wake Gaston up and demand that he not be such a little girl about the situation – one day did not mean a week and if he could just get back to pretending to kill Adam and sticking to him all the time it would be much appreciated. And, should the imbecile be missing in action, Adam was determined to wait there until he showed up.

So intent was he that he almost ran over the plump little man promptly rounding the corner. Cogsworth made an entertaining show of tripping out the way, flushing deeply as the blond offered him a hand up.

"God, Cogsworth, just where are you going?" Adam asked with a raised eyebrow. Both eyebrows flew into his hairline, however, when he saw how somewhat nervous his companion looked.

"Cogsworth, what's going on?" he asked slowly and suspiciously, his hand moving to grab the man's forearm. Cogsworth visibly paled and focused his eyes on the floor.

"N-nothing at all, Master! Nothing at all!"

"Then why were you running like that?"

A nervous chuckle which ended in choking, "N-no reason… I TOLD THEM NOT TO I REALLY DID, BUT DO THEY LISTEN TO ME? NO, NO ONE EVER LISTENS TO ME!"

"Whoa, Cogsworth, breathe!" Adam's voice didn't quite match his narrowed eyes and tightened grip. He was worried about Cogsworth's state of panic, but the prince knew the man's knack for knowing what made him tick. "Am I going to get angry?"

Cogsworth's pencil moustache drooped, "Maybe…"

"Is this about Gaston?"

Cogsworth's pupils dilated and he flailed about as much as he could, "HE'S TURNED THEM AGAINST ME! THE MAN IS PURE POISON! WHY!? WHY OH WHY IS EVIL SO HARD TO KILL!? HE'LL TURN ON US ONE DAY AND _KILL_ US IN OUR BEDS!"

Adam sighed, remembering some of the few times he saw Gaston terrorising the rotund man, "What did he do _this_ time?"

Cogsworth looked ready to faint, pinching his thin lips.

"Cogsworth…"

He looked like he was about to faint, his face turning a tinge purple from trying restraint. Adam was getting much too impatient with the other man's bumbling – he'd deal with him once he'd dealt with Gaston. He let go of his hold on his frantic friend and continued on his way to the West Wing.

As Adam opened the double doors, he was greeted with a sight unlike he had ever seen. The West Wing was…clean. Everything had been arranged and fixed; the broken tables and chairs had been replaced, the carpet refitted and the peeling wallpaper had been reapplied. The dusty curtains had been replaced with lighter, brighter ones and the room no longer smelt musty. Everything looked brighter, bluer…it was extremely confusing.

"Oh, Master, you are up early," Babette commented cheerily, pacing a vase of red roses on the table that had once housed a single enchanted flower.

"Babette…what…I mean…"

"It's a lovely change, _non_? The dark pompous _monsieur_ ordered it," she gazed about her contemplatively, "He isn't as dumb as I thought. Still rather stupid, though."

Gaston had done this? Changed the most important room in his house without asking him? Even if he was living in it as a temporary measure, the West Wing was the most personal part of the castle – Adam's dark past, his first fight with Belle, the final fight with Gaston and his last night as a monster had all happened here. And, with a foppish flick of the wrist, the fiend had removed it all as if he had the authority to do so.

Adam felt the indignation boil over his body, slowly clouding his vision. His eyes glared over every crevice until he noticed it.

"Where is the bed?"

Babbette looked up from a part of window she had been dusting, "Oh, _monsieur_ requested that we move him to another room now that he was better. He said you wouldn't mind and Mrs Potts gave the order."

The Beast took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, "Did he say which room he wanted?"

"But of course," Babette gave a nervous little smile.

"He requested the _Madame_'s old room."

* * *

**_Chérie_****: Dear (or baby)**

**_Non_****: no**

**A/N: What do you think? Please review! Reviews save kittens! And yes, Mrs Potts is a meddler.**


	9. Once Upon A Time: Adam Had A Fit

**Oh, and I must mention that this chapter, and indeed, every chapter before and after this one, are mine in plot alone. The characters, settings and backstories all belong to Disney – I'm just ruining childhoods.**

* * *

Adam couldn't believe it. He really couldn't.

Of all the foul, conniving, immature, underhanded, _BASTARD_ things Gaston could ever do, this was the limit. Adam had LITERALLY let him get away with bloody _murder_, but who was he to order a redecoration of Adam's most personal possession and _then_ demand to stay in the room of his spurned lover!? He had pushed his luck much too far – Adam's grudging fondness of the man did not render him stupid, for Christ's sake.

_It had been the first time he'd ever been in Belle's room other than to show it to her when she was his prisoner. The pastel green door with gold trimming had set his heart pounding painfully. The four poster bed with the rose engraved headboard stood next to the no-longer enchanted dresser. It was already brimming with the bastard's newly sewn winter garments. It was strange to note how the room hadn't changed at all physically, but the aura changed. Regardless of the gentle pastel colours and feminine emblems, it was not soft or delicate as the room had seemed with Belle. It was rougher, sharper – as if she had never been there at all. __**He**__ had desecrated it._

Adam paced in the entrance hall, stomping his boots with as much force as he could exert without breaking his ankles. Gaston was out doing LORD knows what LORD knows where and Adam had waited – for the best part of nine hours – until he returned.

Autumn was truly colder than usual: the leaves seemed to be bronzing and falling at a faster rate than Adam could blink; the wind howled incessantly and the night fell much too fast. In any other situation, Adam would have been afraid for the brute's wellbeing, being out there and vulnerable to the Influenza and shadows and packs of wolves. But he was far too aggravated, too guilty for letting this dangerous dalliance get to this point, to care. He wanted Gaston alive so he could kill him.

The large, dark doors opened, summoning an icy breeze. Adam felt his blood boil to an unbearable temperature when he saw the familiar figure stride in, a large cloth bag slung carelessly off his shoulder. A dark, recently-repressed part of his being was soothed by his arrival and excited by the smug expression. He wanted to lunge upon the man and beat his face in as if his very life depended on it. He wanted to rip the infidel with his bare hands. But, them being who they were, the blows would never carry the meaning Adam wanted. Not this time.

"How dare you? How _dare_ you!" Gaston started a bit, not expecting to find Adam there and not expecting the indignation in his voice. Adam marched towards him, but stayed far enough that both their arms could stretch between them. His guest's eyes looked startled, but he did not say a thing. Adam continued:

"Who do you think you are? Do you really think you're that important? That special? That the world revolves around _you_ and _your_ wants and _your_ whim? That your beauty will be enough to get whatever you want? Now, I've played your game long enough – I am _not _your nanny; I am _not_ your slave and I will never – NEVER! – be your _friend_! Do you have absolutely _no_ consideration of others? Stomping around like you own this place when all I want you to do is _fucking leave_! Who gave you the right to fix the West Wing? _MY_ West Wing! God? Are you God now, Gaston? Who said you can go about _soiling_ my fiancée's room, like you're moving in? Is your head _that_ far up your ass?"

Adam looked wild, frantic; his voice raising and booming with every new sentence.

"And you think you can just _stroll_ into my life and fuck around with my brain? Know what – winter can't end soon enough. Saving your ass was the BIGGEST mistake in my life and I regret it very _thoroughly_ every day!"

Most of Adam's hair had escaped and was encircling his rather red face. His breathing came fast and shallow and his eyes, usually kind, had a long-lost cruelness in them.

Gaston was the exact opposite. His face had become devoid of all emotion and his eyes, usually piercing, seemed softened and hardened at the same time. His jaw tightened from where he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. His breathing came out deliberately slow and deep, as if he was forcing it out. He looked at Adam with an eerie calm – the young prince had been expecting a shouting match, a retort, a glare, something.

When Gaston finally moved two excruciatingly long minutes later, it was to sling the brown sack off his shoulder and throw it onto the floor at Adam's feet. Without looking at the smaller man, he muttered a blank "You're welcome," and walked past Adam towards the stairs. Adam watched, stunned, as he took them 3 at a time, head bent as he did so. When he moved his gaze down to the bag at his feet he was moved to shock and indescribable guilt.

For it held the corpses of a young doe and a few large rodents – enough food to keep them going for a fortnight.

* * *

**A/N: Adam's outburst, more than anything, is related to guilt over how easily he's started replacing Belle. Gaston would normally fight back, but he doesn't normally want to bum men either 3:). It was a bit of a filler, I know, but it serves catalyst to an important plotpoint! **


	10. Once Upon A Time: The Pair Made Amends

**A/N: Why, hello again! So, about that 'story's gonna end soon' thing…yea, my stupidly stacked schedule will have no such with long chapters anymore. Thus, my chapters will be unsatisfyingly short and underdeveloped and for that I AM SORRY! . **

* * *

"Oh for God's sake, Master – _talk to him_! You're both moping and it is putting everyone down!"

Adam shrugged and walked faster. When was Lumière ever going to learn? Adam could outwalk him hopping, and yet the manservant was still adamant about pestering him to the ends of the earth. The prince had to admire the perseverance of one of his closest friends – once again trying to talk him into removing his foot from his backside. However, once again, he was going to ignore what was sound advice and make a greater idiot of himself. It was his decision to make and he was not to be wavered from it.

"If you were so eager to go hiking with me, Lumière, you should have worn thicker shoes," Adam threw over his shoulder, ever charging forward. He was tired with the reproachful glances/glares he was receiving from everyone in the castle and even more tired of having to walk out a room if he saw the semblance of something burly. He was rightly entitled to his anger, so why was everyone treating him with disdain? Were a few high-grade chunks of hide really worth the treason? True, Adam had only been fed gruel and undercooked vegetables since his row with Gaston, but he did not see how an altercation between a prince and his houseguest would become a matter to the staff.

The stumbling footsteps behind him told him that Lumière had not left. Honestly, whenever did he get such interfering servants? Whatever had happened with the concept 'seen, not heard'?

Adam heard a squeal and turned in time to catch the thinner man as he tripped over some undergrowth. In all honesty, this wasn't working out – he would not be able to peacefully seethe with Lumière ambling about and potentially hurting himself. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to fume, in any case. Much as he hated to miss it, he really felt Gaston's absence and it was near unbearable.

However, that did not negate his current emotions. Gaston really had pushed his luck, but it was not that that terrified Adam. It was the fact that Gaston seemed to think he was _allowed_ to, as if he truly was a part of the castle.

_A part of the family_, the pesky voice in Adam's head taunted, _Would that make you happy? After all, it wasn't as if you were in love with Belle. Oh wait, you were. Remember her? Or are your allegiances based on the thing closest to your piece?_

Adam sighed, allowing Lumière to splutter thanks and dust himself off. This whole situation was getting more complex than Adam was prepared to handle. Especially since his rather turbulent emotions were getting involved.

"Maybe we should head back, Master," Lumière suggested, the last bits of dirt falling off his body. Adam relented, not in the mood for another argument, and led the way back to the castle. They had only been walking for what seemed to be mere minutes when Adam bolted, ignoring Lumière's insistent cries as he plunged himself deeper into the forest. His heart pounded in his ears and his blood began to heat with excitement as he sought to put as much distance between himself and his friend as possible. He had no intention of going home and being glared at by everyone and the furniture, and escape seemed like the only sensible tactic.

Twigs and dead leaves caved under his heavy footing as he ran, thrilled at how fast he was moving and not really caring where he went, so long as Lumière was not there. Part of the adventure would be trying to find his way back without being mauled by anything.

His ecstatic racing was stopped short when he felt his midsection collect with something. The sheer force of coming to a complete stop brought his balance off kilter and he landed – flatly – on his backside and into a particularly sharp stone.

If his sudden presence had not scared the deer off, his yelp of pain was enough to send it frantically prancing off. He watched after it, still slightly confused when he heard a rather colourful oath ring not too far from him and the bush he found himself behind was unceremoniously shoved aside.

Adam was not able to see much, but the hulking figure that blocked the sun could only belong to one person. The young prince gulped audibly, caught off guard in a heap of dead foliage. He was relieved that he could not see the hunter's face clearly, but wisps of the perfectly coiffed hair glinted in the glow of the halo the sun provided. He was almost an angel.

A few seconds ticked away as he watched the bow and arrow, not yet used, settle limply in the man's hand. He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice seemed to have run away with the deer.

Gaston, however, did nothing else but snort derisively and flounce off – not so much a backwards glance as he went in search of another target.

* * *

"Are you going to feed me anything more than rabbit feed?"

"No. _Bonne Appétit_."

"Well, can't I at least eat with everyone in the dining hall?"

"No. Gaston eats there and wouldn't be comfortable with you."

"You forget who the Master of this castle is."

"You forget who's providing us with lean meat."

"You would too if you hadn't had any."

"And you're not getting any, _Master_, until you control your temper," Mrs Potts threw him a withering look as she finished setting the paltry meal on a handsome side-table. Adam was pacing around the room, still trying to adjust to the new improvements. Yes, the West Wing had improved, that Adam could admit. It just wasn't acceptable how it had come to be improved.

"He had no right to do that, Mrs Potts. This isn't his home," Adam stated plainly, not raising his voice because he knew it would not sit well with the elderly woman.

Mrs Potts removed her small, oval spectacles and stared at him, "Would it be so wrong if it became his home? The boy has nowhere else to go and the place certainly is big enough to –"

"Don't. Even. Try. He had a village full of lovely women eager to take him back with welcoming arms. Or did you not hear? He is a perfect and faultless dunderhead god to the uneducated, unwashed dunderhead masses," Adam did try not to let his bitterness seep through, but it was hard. It had been a few days since he had bumped into Gaston and that had fuelled his sulking to a new level.

"Must you always be like this?" Mrs Potts huffed, placing her hands on her hips and visibly ruffling, "So thick-headed? Admit it, Master; the West Wing has never looked so grand. He did this for _you_, didn't he?"

"He's squatting in Belle's room."

"Because she's here to occupy it, isn't she? Oh love, we both know she's not coming back. As for why he chose _that_ particular room, would you begrudge him some satisfaction? Maybe her room to him is like her book to you – and don't pretend you don't understand what I'm saying."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose; he had never given it much thought. "He's trying to take away my memories away, Mrs Potts. I know he is! Everything he does…he's trying to make me forget what I'm not allowed to."

The kindly Englishwoman straightened off her apron and adjusted her nightcap before wandering over to the prince and placing a thin-lipped kiss on his cheek. "He can't make you forget, unless you _want_ to forget, dearie. Now let's stop this nonsense. I expect you two to be breaking priceless, irreplaceable items by bedtime."

* * *

Adam did not want to apologise. He was _not _going to apologise, for it was a submissive act and apologising would be giving Gaston permission to continuing playing Master. But Mrs Potts was right – if this whole charade did not end soon enough, he would be mad by spring.

So he was awake, washed and dressed before the sun peaked out in the horizon. The castle in the morning was vindictively freezing, but he ignored it in favour of clothes and boots that would not weigh his flat-footedness down. He splashed some cologne on, fearing the stench that came with hours of exercise.

By the time he ran to the entrance hall, the sky was a lighter shade of navy and birds were tweeting. He caught himself the minute he saw the strong, muscular back flex and gloved arms opened the door. Trying to look nonchalant and unfazed, he leaned against the stair rail and cleared his throat loudly.

Gaston turned around, a little surprised to see someone awake so early, but his features schooled into a mask of disinterest when he saw Adam, poised at the top of the stairs.

"_Bonjour_," Adam ventured, hoping it didn't sound as scripted as it was. Gaston stared at him for a moment before grunting a reply and bending down to collect a series of guns, bows and bags.

Adam felt his confidence sink a bit. This wasn't exactly the interaction he had expected – Gaston was meant to smile, look pleased and invite him back into his life. Adam cleared his throat again, and fought the panic that rose when he was once again ignored.

"So, you're going hunting?" he tried again.

"_Oui,_" came the non-committal reply.

The bastard was really not picking up on the hint and if he was, he was deliberately ignoring it.

"So…it's hunting season, then?" Adam tried a third time, frustrated at how stupid and redundant the phrase was. The things he was risking to make things right.

Gaston looked at him with a slight condescending glint in his eyes. Oh yes, he had picked up the clue all right, "Yes. Yes it is."

"Good."

"Good."

A few awkward moments ticked by, each staring at the other. Adam was frantically finding something else to say, other than the dreaded "s" word and Gaston was ignoring anything other than the dreaded "s" word.

Adam caved, realising that this would not work. He was not sorry for being upset, only in how he conducted himself and he would not give Gaston the satisfaction of an apology. However, it seemed that Gaston was not ready to reach out and take things back to the way they were. Perhaps it was better that way – Adam could learn to forget about the other gentleman in his house and it was only a few months until winter would end and he could leave. It would still hurt though, but he had tried. He really had. Giving an off-hand smile and wave, Adam made to go back into his room and catch up on much needed sleep…

"Do you know how to hunt?"

Adam almost tripped up the stairs, shocked at the unexpected utterance. Was this his chance to reconnect? His response would be vital.

"With fangs and claws, yes," this was true. Although he had been trained in hunting as a young boy, the years spent without opposable thumbs made man-made ammunition and techniques a thing of the past. He was far too heavy on his feet and much too loud as a human to be successful in killing anything.

Gaston snorted arrogantly, "Why am I not surprised? God, I should have killed you _long_ ago. Well, don't just stand there, you overgrown mongrel, grab a bag and that blunderbuss while I'm still young and gorgeous!"

Adam made a horrible hunter. The only things that he could kill were the bugs under his heel and the hare his horse had accidentally trampled when he lost balance and fell off. He had once come close to shooting migrating ducks, but started when Gaston tried to hold his arms steady and got flustered and ended up injuring an owl. The bird made a nice soup.

Gaston would not let him handle the faster creatures, such as the foxes or the deer. Too much stealth was required and there was always the frustration that occurred when they picked up a scent or smell and bounded off. Gaston would sulk and strop and bemoan Adam's existence whenever this happened, which would spark some argument of a sort.

For the most part, they seemed content with each other – their rather intense row long forgotten in favour of more petty disagreements. Gaston seemed to appreciate Adam's interest in hunting, no matter how much he complained. For he would patiently wait for Adam before he left, and if Adam were to oversleep, he would barge into the prince's bedroom and kick up something terrible until Adam gave in and woke up. He would spend hours recounting his amazing feasts against nature and, surprisingly, was well versed in the history behind every weapon in his arsenal. He would speak of each tool with reverence and a near academic register.

He was also unnecessarily hands-on with the handling of the equipment. If Adam was not holding something decently enough, Gaston would stand behind him, hands placed gingerly on his hands and breath gently tickling the neck and ears as he softly whispered instructions. The touches would always linger a little too long and Gaston would stand a little too close, his nose and lips sometimes finding that curve of Adam's neck that would make his eyes roll back languidly. After a week of hunting, Adam surmised that his failure in body counts was directly linked to how inappropriately Gaston touched him at crucial moments. What was also worth noting was how Gaston would increase his ministrations if it seemed that Adam was about to better him.

"Damn," Adam cursed, as a twitchy hare dodged his arrow and burrowed into the hardening ground. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he had nothing to bring back to the castle. At least the rest of the house considered him redeemed enough to eat proper meals in their presence.

"No wonder you can't hit the side of a barn, you're wielding the thing like an axe," Gaston sauntered over to him, typing a heavy cloth bag to his horse's saddle before taking the all too familiar position behind the blond. Adam gulped audibly, feeling those pesky emotions again and hating how he came up to the bridge larger man's nose.

"Here, you hold it like this," Gaston began pompously, roughly forcing Adam's arms up. His left hand was steadying Adam's on the grip, the other hand pulling the twine back. He felt the full-on flush of a wide chest against him and unwittingly pressed back into it. He felt a puff of air by his right ear that served as a grunt of approval and shivered at the nose that nuzzled itself to the side of his head.

"When you're handling the _bow_, you have to stand just so," Adam was certainly imaging how husky the voice that tutored him was, and he was certainly fantasising on the suggestive manner Gaston had said 'bow'. He gave an undignified squeak when his foot was pushed and his legs opened wider so Gaston could place a leg between them. Adam felt large, warm hands trail away from his arms and ghost themselves over his front torso. Not enough to make indents on his skin, but enough to make their presence known. Adam breathed a loud sigh of relief and closed his eyes slightly. Minutes ticked away as both sighed and shivered slightly.

"I'm not going to apologise," Gaston finally murmured from somewhere in Adam's hair.

Adam snorted softly, "Like you'd admit to being wrong."

Gaston replied by nipping on the blonde's ear and sucking loudly on the lobe. Adam gave an involuntary moan, giving a slight twitch as he let his arrow loose and felt the bow slip through his fingers.

Gaston took the opportunity to turn him around and force Adam flush against this body. Not one to be dominated, Adam grabbed at the other's hips and forced him closer, finding Gaston's neck and running a trail of saliva up his neck. He grinned against the flesh when he felt the man melt pitifully into him.

"Why does a room matter so much to you?" he heard the raven-head whisper into his ear. They shifted their heads until their eyes were caught within one another's and their noses were inches apart.

Adam had the sudden urge to kiss Gaston, to taste the lips that could get him so angry, lonely and flustered all at once. He had an unfamiliar, animalistic yearning to explore the hunter's mouth until it was swollen and busted and bleeding. He had never had memory of wanting anything more in his life, and yet something held him back.

Adam remembered, if only vaguely, that he had not answered the question. He knew this conversation had been a long time coming, an elephant in the room, so to speak. Entranced as he was by their close proximity, Adam was not going to submit.

"It was not your decision, this is not your house," he managed to mutter through clenched teeth. Gaston gave a slight smirk, as he leaned forward.

"Oh yeah?" Adam could feel the heat of Gaston's lips so close to his, but not touching. _Still_ not touching.

"Cleaning my Wing is arguably forgivable. But you will move out of Belle's room immediately."

Gaston stared hard, his hands freezing against the small of Adam's back. "What does it matter? She's gone. You're not still in love with her."

"She's my wife, Gaston. I'll always love her."

Gaston's hands had bundled up Adam's shirt in fists, his eyes glinting something manic. He forced his body against Adam's, taking them both down to the ground. Adam grunted as the air was knocked out of him, glaring at eyes that no longer seemed to belong to a human. Gaston looked livid enough to murder him…or make him hurt in a different way.

Gaston leaned in, the incisors of teeth claiming the bottom of Adam's lip. Adam found himself gasping and whimpering to the touch, rotating his hips to meet Gaston's solid body. Gaston's tongue traced gently over the skin it had captive, before he bit down with his might.

Adam whimpered, his eyes tearing up. The taste of metal that found a way onto his tongue informed him that the man had drawn blood, and was eagerly lapping it up. He could not fight the erection straining against his tights, nor did he want to. He was greeted by a low moan and an equally strong erection when his hips jerked upwards. But it was still not enough. He wanted, _craved_, more.

And then, all of a sudden, all the lovely pain and pressure and gorgeous tension was gone and Gaston was up and climbing his horse.

"She's not coming back, _Beast_."

Adam watched, confused and with patches of smeared blood on his chin, as the hunter forcefully wiped traces of Adam's blood off his lips and rode off in a hasty gallop. The prince blinked a few times to steady himself, unsure of what had transpired between them. When he was finally ready to pack his half of the equipment, he rose and dusted dirt off himself. He was rather surprised when he found that dratted hare, pinned to the ground with none other than his own arrow.

Perhaps he was not a terrible hunter after all.

* * *

**A/N: ****_Bonjour_**** = good day **

**_Oui_**** = yes**

**Yes, yes, I am well aware that there is nothing other than homoerotic tension with no sense of gratification. That would be because I am evil. Stay tuned! ^_^**


	11. Once Upon A Time: A Book Became A Rival

**A/N: Hello again! The tone of this one may be a little different from the others – I'm trying to bridge the gap between the last chapter and my next plot point. So please, be merciful! **

**Also, I HAS A LIVEJOURNAL! It took my dumb ass a while to work it, but it's there! Many thanks to KornKob – this story is now dedicated to you :3 **

**Disclaimer: Slight quoting from movie ^^**

* * *

The days after their rather impassioned incident passed in a haze. Adam's lip healed too fast and too well for his satisfaction and he often found himself sucking on the flesh until it flushed pink. The air was thicker, voices were hazier and the food was harder to chew. Gaston had not moved out of Belle's room. Adam had not tried to force him out.

The autumnal hunts continued as per usual and the pair spent the first few days talking of nothing else, if they talked at all. They spent most of their time watching each other closely, eyes turning dark whenever their gazes met. The arousal that Adam felt at anything that _hinted_ at the man – hair, smell, slight mention – was almost choking. He didn't seem to feel the growing cold of the upcoming winter, but felt a sinful flush whenever Gaston touched him. It seemed to happen a lot, the touching – more so than Adam remembered in the past. Gaston had not made so brazen a move since Belle was mentioned last, but his touches held more meaning. At least, Adam hoped they did.

The prince was excelling at hunting, much as Gaston hated to admit it. Instead of watching the blond fumble about dusk 'til dawn, the raven-head found himself competing for kills and tiring out by noon. Covered in sweat and animal blood and smiling stupidly at each other, they would lazily ride along until they heard the rushing of the river. The horses would graze whilst the men reclined under the Weeping Willow: Gaston snoring something awful with his arm draped over Adam's thigh and his forehead digging into Adam's hipbone. Some days Adam would watch him, noting the slack expression and slight drool with appreciation. Other days he'd read a certain blue book, basking in the last rays of day. By the end of fall, the companions had butchered near half of the surrounding forest.

Winter found its way into France: white, thick and everywhere. Gaston took to hacking phlegm at the almost instant cold front and was banned to so much as look out the window. Mrs Potts would force-feed him in Belle's room in the mornings and wrap him in blankets by the fireplace from noon 'til night. Adam would feel sorry for him if it wasn't so entertaining to see Mrs Potts so overjoyed to boss someone around.

The sleet and growing snow made venturing outside an effort. That and the fact that the woods weren't the same without Gaston. So Adam spent time in the library, reading book after book until he thought in narratives. Some evenings he spent with Gaston, vaguely listening to the hunter's whines about what torture the nursemaid had put him through that day. Other nights, he'd have an early retreat, sprawled across his bed and resisting the urge to touch himself. Gaston's penchant for tossing the blankets aside and ripping his shirt off when he thought Mrs Potts wasn't around provided horrifically potent fantasy material.

* * *

"What's this?" Gaston demanded, staring at what Adam had tossed into his lap.

"It is called a book. Strange but true, people use them to _read_," Adam replied listlessly, his eyes returning to a worn blue book. This was the 34th time he read it.

Gaston stared at the heavy volume, then back at Adam, "I'm not reading it."

Adam ignored the other man, instead turning a page. As expected, Gaston became irritated. Adam ignored the itch of curiosity when he heard movements near him. He wasn't expecting the arms that stuck themselves to his, the chest that flushed against his back, or the thighs that warmed themselves against his. Adam felt the warm air of Gaston's breath creeping into the shell of his ear. Accustomed – if not ecstatic – to Gaston's need for contact, Adam settled against him and continued onto a new chapter. The fire crackled peaceably as the couple sat in companionable silence.

"How can you read this? There's no pictures!"

Adam chuckled, "People use their imagination, _Chérie_. You should try it sometime – might make you smarter."

Gaston huffed and Adam could feel the gust of air leave his ribs and trail onto his neck. Adam expected a protest leading into an argument, but instead the larger man buried his face into the nape of the prince's neck, nuzzling slightly.

"As if you want me smarter."

Adam smiled lazily, "_Mais oui_. I like my men dumb. Makes them that much easier to control."

Adam felt the mouth rested on his shoulder smile as it planted something similar to a soft kiss against his flesh. Adam sighed deeply and moved his head slightly to give the other more access.

"Book looks familiar though…"the hunter mumbled between butterfly kisses. The young prince made a non-committal sound from his nose.

"Belle brought it with her. You must have seen it from… Gaston?"

Burly arms had wrapped around his mid-section and pulled him – forcibly – close. He tried to break free from the grasp but Gaston held him tighter. The man's whole disposition seemed tense.

"And you kept it?"

"_Chérie,_ I can't breathe."

The grip became tighter, "Why did you keep it."

Adam lowered the book. The arms weakened a bit. "Gaston, this is the only thing of hers that I have."

"You have her room."

"No, _you_ have her room, remember?"

"Not if you had had your way."

"Don't start."

"You started the _minute. You. Kept. It._" Gaston hissed.

Adam sighed, "Am I not allowed to keep memories of her now? You forget your place, Gaston."

"Oh yes, the esteemed _guest_," Gaston spat, letting go and jumping to his feet. He bounded to the door, briskly. He turned his gaze to Adam, who was seated on the Persian carpet in front of the hearth. His hair was untied and glowed gold in the fire-light, his neck and shoulder flushed pink from the hunter's ministrations. His expression spoke levels of exasperation. The book lay between his sprawled legs.

The raven-head's expression almost softened, but his mouth was thin and hard and his jaw had hardened.

"It's sad how you cling to some bitch who isn't even here. You shouldn't need a book to have some stupid memory."

Adam didn't see him for another week.

* * *

**A/N: And the inspiration slips ever so slowly. Thanks for tuning in, folks ^^**


	12. Once Upon A Time: There Was A Ball

**A/N: A thousand bedazzled apologies laid in chiffon with a pure gold inlay for the one solitary entry of last week. For some reason known only to God, I decided to get my life organised. That, and the fact that I am infatuated with an insane woman. **

**The clothing in this chapter is very different from the garb the characters wear in the final scene of the movie – this is for the sake of originality and because I reckon that rich, fancy people should have more than one formal ensemble. ^^**

* * *

"So I'm thinking about going back home," Gaston added nonchalantly, chewing on a bit of dried deer as he squinted at the pages of the heavy volume in front of him. At the very least, he would have seemed nonchalant if his posture was not so rigid and his voice slightly stilted.

Adam twitched, head snapping up and blinking long enough to splutter a graceful: "Huh?"

Gaston did not look up from the tome he was staring at, "I think I'm good enough to go home soon."

Adam blinked some more. "When were you thinking of - ?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh," the blond tried schooling his expressions, failing and subsequently taking interest in his reading. Plato. A favourite, but not his absolute; no, he kept _that_ book far enough away since he and Gaston had argued about it. He was not going to get rid of it, but he did not want another disagreement. Gaston had stopped touching him since then. He no longer complained about Mrs Potts and her mothering and didn't walk around shirtless when he could get away with it. He hardly spoke and had the most bizarre expression on his face. Stranger still was how he been spending the last few weeks reading in the library.

* * *

_"I didn't know you could read," Adam watched the hunter start slightly from his place near the door. The candlelight cast shadows on the man's coal-black locks and the brown band that tied them up. _

_Gaston did not look up from his book before snapping, "Don't assume I'm an idiot because I have better things to do with my life than stare at paper."_

_Adam cringed. This was not how he was hoping their first encounter since Belle's book would go. "I didn't mean it like that, _chérie_."_

_The other man turned his head slightly, using his peripheral vision to size Adam up. "Whatever," he shrugged and went back to reading._

_Adam found a chair and sat opposite him, staring at him hard. The man looked strange, pensive as he turned the pages. It was very unlike Gaston. It terrified the prince._

_"Where did you learn to read so well?" Adam hesitantly after a few awkward minutes of staring. _

_Gaston rolled his eyes and emphatically turned a page. "I'm not just great looks, you know."_

_Adam swallowed hard. "I know," he said softly._

_Gaston sighed loudly and continued reading. Adam shifted about uncomfortably, leaning over the table and grabbing the nearest book. _

_Gaston said nothing. He hardly acknowledged Adam's existence. But for the 4 hours they sat together, not once did he chase Adam away._

* * *

Adam allowed his eyes to flicker upwards. Through ash-blonde eyelashes he surveyed the raven-head. Surely an encyclopaedia was not that interesting. And was he thinking? The look did not become him.

Is this not what he wanted? Adam had spent near a year harping on about wanting Gaston out of his life – now he was getting his wish. Shouldn't that in itself brighten his mood? He was getting rid of a pompous, arrogant, psychopathic tyrant without getting his hands dirty. His body would heal completely and his days could be spent in peaceful contemplation without babysitting anyone. He would forget about this unsightly attraction and move on with his life.

This is exactly what he wanted.

* * *

Two days later and Adam was miserable. Missing the psychopath should not be this hard. The castle was too quiet and the prince's faithful servants were getting increasingly agitated at his pestering for attention. More than once he had to be detained by Cogsworth and Lumière to stop him from bounding into town and kidnapping the hunter. Meanwhile, Gaston must have been receiving a 12-star welcome, wenches abound and beer fountains as far as the eye can see. Just the thought of those loose, filthy women touching the mere _air_ around what Adam now shamelessly considered _his_… it was enough to make him murderous.

Which is why, after two of the longest days in his existence, he couldn't contain the whoop of pure elation when he saw the demented black stallion galloping in the general direction of his abode. The long, charcoal hair that rippled as the horse moved ever closer inspired Adam to launch himself over the balcony to get downstairs faster. He made do with sprinting down the hallways and sliding down the banister. Yanking the door open, he could barely hide the grin that formed when he was met with the figure in front of him.

"Back so soon?"

"The idiots! The tyrants! The scumbags! How DARE they!?" Gaston brushed past Adam, ranting as he stomped up the stairs. Adam signed for someone to attend to the horse before following his houseguest.

"Please, make yourself at home," Adam muttered, mildly entertained. He would normally have a fit at the audacity of the oaf – would even insist that the hunter leave for home at once. Now, the prince wanted nothing more than to bolt the door shut and keep the man with him forever.

Gaston was in the library, pacing as he ranted. Adam took the seat nearest to him, letting his eyes wonder over the body he never thought he'd see again. Even if the expressive face was flushed with what seemed to be rage.

"Who do they think they are!? They've tangoed with the wrong man! No one does this to Gaston _and lives_!"

"So, how was home?"

Gaston stopped, not far off, glaring hard, "How do you THINK it went!? Horribly, terribly, horrifically! Gastronomically apocalyptic!"

Reading had certainly had an effect on Gaston's vocabulary – it was a bit of a turn-on. Shoving that aside before he lost all composure and devoured the man, Adam frowned. "What happened?"

"I was tossed aside, that's what happened!" Gaston's deep voice all but spat, "Jeered! Rejected! Publicly humiliated! Why, it's more than I can bear!" The large man collapsed into a chair near the prince, head bent and running his hands frustratedly through his hair. Adam watched this action with furrowed brows.

"But how is that possible? You're a town hero!"

Gaston's laugh was hollow, "The bastards thought I was dead, you believe that? What's more, they were _happy_ about it. They were _better off_ without me! I ride into town and they act like I'm Satan or something! I was only trying to save them all!"

"By killing me?"

"Oh shut up," Gaston snapped listlessly. He sighed deeply, cradling his skull. He sat motionless, almost as if he weren't moving. Adam leaned forward, debating whether he should touch the downtrodden man.

"Gaston?"

"Le Fou wouldn't even look me in the eye."

Adam halted, shocked stiff. The once-proud voice sounded so small and vulnerable and Adam understood. Gaston had been a town legend – he was accustomed to unconditional praise and worship. Adam knew how Gaston thrived on adoration, how it was the only way he found worth in himself. It must have killed the man, banished from the only home he had ever known; rejected by the only friend who would ever have him.

Overpowered by the sudden need to comfort him, Adam lifted himself out of his chair and propped himself on his haunches before Gaston. The hunter had still not moved from his resigned stance, his breathing barely registering. Adam wrapped his arms around the lumped shoulders and pressed his cheek against the hollow one. He could feel the other stiffen, but the blond just tightened his grip. He turned his face sideways, nestling his nose into the small black tendrils that coiled around the hunter's ear. He nuzzled until, at last, Gaston relaxed against him. He placed a lingering, chaste kiss on the man's temple before pulling back.

"What do they know anyway? They're hicks, the whole lot of them! They aren't worthy of you!" Gaston still hadn't lifted his head, but his posture was less rigid, and he seemed to be listening. Adam needed to cheer him up before the brute did something stupid, like cry. Gaston needed more than just a place to stay – he needed a home to belong to.

_The boy has nowhere else to go and the place certainly is big enough…_

But could he ask? What would the implications of that be? The pair had been swanning around each other for the longest time, but inviting him to live in the castle…that was another story. It would be making something uncomfortably concrete and, one day or another, Adam would force himself on Gaston and not stop. But he couldn't just toss the man asunder, which was about the time a wonderful idea found its way into Adam's mind.

"Let's have a ball."

Gaston perked his head up, face scrunched and red-eyed, "Huh?"

Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, getting excited as the plan fleshed out in his conscious, "You're rejected, homeless, alone and unwanted."

"Do you _have_ a deathwish!?"

"But you were destined for greater things,_ chérie_! And what better way to realise your true potential than with a ball? Why haven't I thought of this before; it's a brilliant idea!"

Gaston cocked his head to the side, still quite confused, "Does every royal idiot in the world think a party can solve everything, or is it just you?"

"Gaston, my love, _you_ are the idiot. Don't you see? A ball would require _guests_, and guests of the right calibre come from far and wide. Think of it, _chérie_ – foreign, rich dignitaries and royalties, all there for _you_."

Gaston's confusion cleared; his face the familiar level of haughtiness. "I charm them with my natural good looks and sharp wit – "

"_Sharp?_"

"They'll offer me big important positions in court and I'll be far away from France living happily ever after!"

Adam sniggered, earning a sharp glare and sharp push from the other. "Think I'm funny, Beast? I'll prove to you that no one laughs at Gaston!"

From his new position on the floor, he prince watched the hunter proudly stride out the library, nose sky-high. Gaston's emotions oscillated at a ridiculous rate. But, at the very least, he was happy – just how Adam liked him.

* * *

The light from the chandeliers gave the reception hall a golden glow of warmth. The large windows, which lined the walls, showed a picturesque forest bathed in the white snow. There were bands and laughter and beautiful painted faces in bilious dresses and tailcoats of bright colours. It was a wondrous winter ball like no other.

Genuinely smiling at no one in particular, Adam let his eyes wander over the splendour that lay before him. To his left, he saw Cogsworth in a very engaging one-sided conversation with an ambassador. To his right, Lumière and Babette were dressed to the nines, twirling circles that made nearby couples envious. A porcelain-doll of a princess in a mock wedding dress was teaching Chip to dance. Even the dog had a blue ribbon around his neck, eagerly staring at the attractive dancing people with his tongue lolled to the side. They all deserved this, every single servant in the castle did – they had worked tirelessly to make this a success.

He felt a soft arm bump into his and smiled at Mrs Potts. Her nightcap was traded for a tight bun, her apron traded for a simple muslin overskirt of powder blue. She smiled up at him.

"Awful nice of you to give us the night off, Master."

"If it weren't for you all, none of this would have happened," he used a gloved hand to gesture about him. The small English nursemaid him a once over, taking in his gold tights, pure white tailcoat with gold trimmings. His calf-length boots shone like a reflected surface and his hair was tied with the newest ribbon in his collection.

"My, but aren't you looking the part. Trying to impress someone special?" she asked slyly, thin lips cocked to the side.

"Can't possibly know what you mean," Adam resisted the urge to blush. He had spent the evening dressing, wondering if Gaston would impressed. Not that he'd admit to it, but the prince had felt slightly insecure – he had to make sure that, out of all the good-looking men and women, Gaston had eyes only for _him_.

Mrs Potts only hummed her assent, nodding her head. Adam laid a hand out to her, handling her small soft hands with care as he led her to dance. They moved gracefully, idly chatting as they stepped in careful circles. They chuckled and chortled until Mrs Potts' feet needed a rest and Adam led her to a recliner.

"Not as young as I used to be!" Mrs Potts fanned her face as she put her small feet up. Her face was flushed.

"Will you be alright?" Adam asked, afraid he may have overexerted her. She gazed at him over her spectacles, "I could ask the same of _you_, dear."

"What do you…"

"He's leaving, you know. Over the hills and far away," Mrs Potts said, making Adam freeze, if only for a second.

He recovered fast though, "I know, Mrs Potts. That's what the ball is for."

"No you don't know. You lose him now, you'll lose him forever," Mrs Potts jerked her head towards the door, "He belongs here and you know it."

Adam followed her indication and felt the breath leave his very body. For, at the entrance of the hall, stood the most enchanting sight he had ever laid eyes on. A tall, powerful creature, thick black hair tied fashionably behind broad shoulders clothed in a black velvet overcoat with red trimming. The tights clinging to the delicious thighs were the colour of scarlet and the boots were thigh-high. Everything about Gaston spoke volumes of sensuous command and Adam was sure he was not the only person left panting with pure desire.

The cold eyes scanned over the room, his face as hardened and stoic as ever. It suddenly broke into one of the most charming smiles Adam had never seen as the hunter flitted from person to person.

* * *

Females simpered; males grinned foolishly and there was dancing. No one could get enough of Gaston and Gaston revelled in it. He was in his element – making people adore him. Doubtless he already had offers from other royal courts; many prospective lovers dying for a night, if not a lifetime, with him. It made Adam sick.

He spent a significant amount of time playing the gracious host, charming and networking effortlessly. However, his eyes watched every one of Gaston's calculated moves, smiled at as many people and made sure he danced near Gaston. The prince knew he was being petty, but he couldn't care less – at the very least he would make sure that Gaston went to a proper home.

A particularly zealous dance with a particularly zealous countess left Adam resting against the wall, catching his breath. He closed his eyes and focused on the hum of his blood in his ears, unable to immediately notice the owner of the hands that yanked him closer.

"Dance with me," came the sinful tenor.

Adam's eyes snapped open the same time a smile cocked his lips. He let the strong, stiff body pull him to the centre of the hall and wrap itself around it. The music changed, the tempo shifted to something quicker. Cobalt and ice locked, Adam welcoming the feeling of ice washing over him as they began to dance.

Their movements were fast and furious, clearing a circle around them as people gazed in awe. A tango between the devil and an angel, some whispered. Two beauteous creatures fit for kings, others gasped. But none of that mattered to Adam – he was far too caught up in Gaston, fighting for dominance whilst keeping his lust in check. Gaston gave a predatory smile and something in Adam clicked.

He was in love with Gaston. Mad, passionate, irate love for the man who had killed him, only to bring him back to life when he needed it most. It was he could do to stop himself from clinging tighter to the body and crashing his lips against the hunter's. And for a moment, one crazy moment, it seemed as if Gaston felt the same.

The song ended, almost abruptly, and the spell was broken. Adam didn't even realise he was out of breath until the light-headedness kicked in. The crowd applauded; inspired by the show they were given. A new piece was played and the floor was awash with skirts and boots in motion – the attention shifted from the two heaving, flushed men who were staring at each other as if they had never met before.

"What's your name?" Gaston wheezed between words.

"Pardon?"

Gaston grabbed at the prince's gloved hand, tugging him out the hall. Sounds from the ball spilled into the empty corridor, but at the very least they were alone. The blond felt the deepest and darkest of palpitations at this revelation, aware of how Gaston still held his hand. Very, painfully aware at how Gaston was looking at him.

"I never got your name, you know."

Adam shifted his hands, surprised. It only occurred to him now: Gaston had called him Beast or addressed him directly, but never once had Adam actually told the man his name. It had never seemed important and the prince had naturally assumed the hunter knew. Asking this question now, at this point, seemed dreadfully intimate. Gaston noticed the unsteady hands and proceeded to lace his fingers between the blonde's, his thumb rubbing the skin almost absentmindedly.

"It's Adam."

"Adam?"

The name sounded worse hanging off Gaston's lips. Adam would have assumed that having Gaston use his first name would have been more sensual, but he found that he didn't like Gaston using that name at all.

Gaston seemed to agree, for he gave a snort, "It's a dumb name."

"How romantic, really you know just what to say," Adam retorted listlessly, "Just call me Beast then, you buffoon."

"Does anyone else call you that?" Gaston ventured, bringing a hand to finger the golden curls gently.

"Beast? No, just you," Adam leant to the touch, lips brushing against the wrist. He smelt like cologne, nulling his senses.

"Good."

Pain shot up Adam's spine as his back connected forcefully with the wall. He winced slightly, registering the hand linked with Gaston's was forced above his head. Gaston was so close to him that Adam could spy every pore. The hunter's lips lay gingerly on the prince's cheek. The silence around them gave the situation a heady air.

"They want me to leave, you know. They all want me," Gaston whispered, his breath a slither on Adam's ear.

Just the thought of someone else having Gaston, dealing with his shortcomings and hubris, made Adam's heart break, "Yes, I could tell."

Gaston rubbed his nose against Adam's, "I'm going to leave too, you know. I'm going to leave because you don't want me here."

"Gaston, I…"

"But what if I don't want to leave? What if there's something holding me back?" Gaston's body flushed flat against Adam's, his breath inching closer. A black robed arm snaked up towards the shoulder, bringing their chests closer. Adam hitched a breath, rolling his hips upwards and receiving a soft, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth. When Gaston pulled away, his eyes were as dark and intense as the desire that had been brooding in Adam for so long.

"I don't want to leave," he sounded so adamant. Adam brought his free hand to cradle the side of the hunter's angular face, gently coaxing it closer to his, lips dying to touch…

"Adam?"

The pair froze, their mouths just sitting together gently. Ready to rip the head off the fool that would require his attention at so crucial a time, Adam turned his head, scowl in place.

The scowl dropped to a fish-mouthed gape. He stared for what like a lifetime, not believing his eyes.

"_Belle?"_

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun duuuun! Yes, I turned this into a soapie. For a good many reasons, though, so bear with me.**


	13. Once Upon A Time: Belle Returned

"_Belle?"_

The beauteous brunette smiled widely, "It _is _you.""

Adam did not remember letting go of the hunter's hand. He could not recount pushing the other off him. He had not recollection of running down the corridor at breakneck speed and would later deny sobbing like a child as he embraced her. But the feel of her fragile form and the rosy smell of her soft brown curls would be etched into his memory for an eternity to come. She seemed equally pleased to see him, whimpering gently into his shoulder. It was the happiest day in his life.

An eternity later, they finally broke away and Adam was able to get a good look at her. She was in a golden winter gown, long with the middlepoint of the sleeve stretching out towards her knuckles. Her torso and the layers of her skirts were adorned in diamonds. Around her head was a simple gold circlet and her hair had grown to her stomach, tied in a fish tail and slung over her shoulder.

She placed a gloved hand across Adam's cheek, lips trembling, "_Mon Dieu_, you haven't changed a bit!"

"Just look at you!" Adam laid a small kiss on her forehead, gently taking her arm, "Oh Belle, I've missed you so. Where have you been? What have you been doing? What brought you here?"

The little woman laughed gently, "One question at a time, dear one! There's so much to tell I don't where to begin!" she bit her bottom lip, "There's something I have to tell you…"

Adam pulled the small figure closer to him, hugging her again, "I want to hear all about it – everything! But you must stay longer than the night. Say you will."

She laughed again, "Where would I stay, my love?"

"Your old room, course! Oh…" he suddenly remembered they weren't alone, "Why don't you go inside, _chérie_? I believe I owe you a dance."

Belle frowned a bit, her eyes darting past Adam. However, she nodded and returned to the hall. Adam was suddenly aware of how silent it had been – how long ago had the music stopped? Why had he not noticed it? Of course, he was busy…

Almost afraid, he turned around. Gaston. He was still there, in the same position that Adam had pushed him in, face blank as a clean sheet.

"You wouldn't mind moving your things, would you _chérie_? It was her room after all."

"Don't."

"Huh?" Adam blinked.

Gaston's face scrunched into a sneer. "Don't. Call. Me. _Chérie_," he growled.

"_Chérie_, I…"

"Don't you dare call me the same name you call _her_."

Adam blinked again, surprised, "Gaston, are you…jealous?"

The face turned surprised, then blank, "No."

The prince took a step forward, watching the other back away, "You are, aren't you? You're _jealous! Of Belle!_"

Gaston leant against the corridor wall, scoffing, "Of _her?_ That frail little cock tease? Please."

"And you're sure you're not jealous?" Adam moved until he was in front of Gaston. The hunter tried to retain his blank expression, but his contempt and hurt was poorly disguised. Adam felt a twinge of guilt, but mainly pride: Gaston would need to feel something for him in order to be _jealous_, wouldn't he? It made him feel wanted, _loved_.

He felt a warmth rise to his chest, wanting to touch Gaston so badly. Gaston's eyes were downcast, lips pursed in a pout and unresponsive when Adam lifted a hand to caress his cheek. Placing a hand on the hunter's hip and closing the space between them, Adam leaned forward. Gaston shakily tilted his chin up, lips parted invitingly. Adam exhaled, excited. Finally, after all this time…

The tingling at the back of his neck made Adam open his eyes, finding himself staring in Gaston's eyes and freezing up. Gaston's eyes spoke levels of pure… hatred.

As if he were light as a feather, Adam was thrown onto the ground fast and hard. Stunned, he looked up at the now-menacing figure sneering down at him. His hands were balled in fists and were shaking slightly – everything seemed to be shaking.

"Go ask your _wife_ for _a kiss_," was the final remark before Gaston stomped off, breaking anything in his path.

Adam brushed himself off and forced a smile, "Missed me?"

Belle grabbed his hand and rested against his chest. "They all hate me," she whispered.

Adam looked around, "Who – the guests? _N'inquiète pas, chérie_, they don't matter. "

Belle shook her head, "You didn't see them. When I walked in…"

Adam looked around at the hall and understood – the furtive glances and stage whispers. Even the previous lack of music made sense. Belle's presence surprised them all, and they did not seem too pleased about it. Their loyalty melted Adam's heart.

She peeked up at him, eyes glistening, "Oh Adam - did I break you that badly?"

He ran a finger down her plait, "Honestly, do I look broken to you? People in this social circle are just gossipmongers – abundant money and free time can do that."

She cocked her eyebrow at him, "For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to accept that excuse."

The blonde gave her hand a kiss, "Shall we dance and give them more to talk about?"

Belle smirked and moved closer. Kings and counts tutted. Duchesses and princesses gasped, before whispering at a rapid rate. Adam did not care – in fact, this was an exciting twist that would surely have everyone talking until the spring. It was not how he had initially hoped to enter society, but it was just as effective.

And, in reality, he had truly missed dancing with Belle.

Her tongue felt foreign in his mouth, her lips far too small. Her hair was too long for his liking, and her breasts pressed against his chest made him feel a little nauseous. It felt as if she was going break if he held her too close. He could feel her saliva in sliding in his mouth, thick and foamy. This really wasn't working.

Belle pulled away, shifting as away from him as the bench would allow, "This really isn't working."

"Don't know why we thought it would," Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I mean, I love you, but…"

"This is supposed to be different. I'm supposed to _feel_ something…"

"Things have changed."

"You have changed, my pet."

"As if I'm the only one who has?" Belle all but snapped, pulling her wolf pelt cloak closer to her body, "I thought you hated Gaston. I also thought he _died_. Have another secret to share – hiding breasts beneath that shirt, perhaps?"

Adam blanched, "I…er… I mean… look, the only reason I saved him is because it was something _you_ would do."

"Yes, of course I would. But I wouldn't exactly gyrate against him. Then again, he isn't really my type."

If the prince went any whiter, he would blend with the snow, "_ANYWAY…_What was that thing you wanted to tell me again?"

Belle laughed, watching the snow cascade diagonally, "What do you know about the New World?"

"There's a New World?"

Belle shook her head, "Rumour has it there is. There's a ship in London leaving for it. Just imagine it Adam," her eyes clouded over, "_me,_ over the ocean! I've danced with gypsies in Paris, slept in Scandinavian ruins and I swear I saw a mermaid once! But _this_! This would complete me…"

"So you're going to board a ship? You know what sailors think of women, right?"

His wife shrugged, "I'll sort something out. Let them try and stop me!"

Adam tittered, placing an arm around Belle's arm, "I love you sometimes."

Belled snuggled against him, "Good boy. I'm freezing – let's go back inside."

Everyone stared out the bay window, not believing their eyes. What was once a beautiful backdrop to a winter ball now sported a blizzard, the blazing snow blocking everything from view.

"What should we do, Master?" Cogsworth asked in a small voice, mouth open like a fish.

Adam's jaw hardened. This was not quite the way he imagined the end of his evening. At his arm, Belle tightened her grip, frowning into the icy air.

"It's far too dangerous to let anyone leave. Cogsworth, do we have enough rooms? We'll keep the guests here until the morning."

Cogsworth jumped, saluting before running off. Within hours the rooms were full of sleeping royalties and democrats. Most of the servants, fatigued at organising so many rooms in so short a time, had finally slouched off to collapse in their quarters. This left Adam alone with Belle, the pair of them bonding as he walked her to her room. They spoke of everything: what Belle saw in her travels; how Adam came across Gaston; the languages Belle could speak and the past few months Adam spent with Gaston.

"So you're friends now, I assume?" Belle wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as her husband opened the door for her. She stood in the space between her room and the corridor, watching the prince blush.

"H-have you not been listening to what I've been saying? We've been fighting through the _summer_!"

"Yes, of course," Belle nodded a little too fast, "He must hate me though. Being your wife and all."

Adam sighed, "I told him not to worry. I mean, we're…"

"Changed?" Belle smiled, "That too. But does _he_ know that? And where is he anyway?"

"I don't know..I haven't seen him since…" the thought hit Adam cold, "oh no."

"What is it? Adam!" Belle nearly tripped over her gown running after him. The prince barely registered her, marching with only one place in mind.

Mrs Potts was in the entrance hall, putting out the last of the candles. She jumped slightly when she heard the clamouring of his boots and turned to see the flushed, hassled pair.

"Master! What are you..?"

"Where is he!? Where is he, goddammit!?" Adam thundered, turning on her with wild eyes. His nursemaid frowned, "Who dear?"

"Adam! Calm down!" Belle shouted, running ahead of him for fear that her husband might beat the woman senseless. It was times like these that he scared her. She stood between the two, glaring at Adam before turning kind eyes on Mrs Potts.

"Mrs Potts, have you seen Gaston?"

The old Englishwoman frowned slightly, "Did something happen?"

"Please, Mrs Potts, just tell us. Even if it is to calm Adam down."

Mrs Potts looked to her, then at the prince. She sighed slightly, "Last time I saw him was…oh no."

Adam made forward but was blocked by Belle's hand to her chest, "What do you _mean_ 'oh no'!? What the _HELL_ are you hiding woman!?"

Mrs Potts looked pallid and ashen, "I last saw him when he went out for some air. I…I think he's still out there."

**A/N: ****_N'inquiète pas:_**** don't worry. **

**Gah my brain… Two more chapters to go! 3**


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